


Video Games

by applesaucecake



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Italy, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Pepperony - Freeform, Shared Trauma, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Swearing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, partayyy, slight hulkwidow, steve can't take his eyes off you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2020-02-27 04:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 55,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18731266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applesaucecake/pseuds/applesaucecake
Summary: A year after leaving your high maintenance job at SHIELD, you get an invitation to Tony's birthday party in Italy. You haven't spoken to him, or any of the people from your old job, for months. How will they react to seeing you again? Will you be able to fix the friendships you left behind?And what happens when you start getting feelings for one of your friends?





	1. An Unwanted Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> hey lovelies!  
> this work is going to be a multi chapter, so sit tight and enjoy the ride :)  
> it's kind of inspired by the song video games by Lana Del Rey - I used to listen to that song all the time when I went on holiday. It reminds me of being abroad and makes me all nostalgic so that's why I decided to include it in this fic.  
> (Just wanted to mention that the relationship between the reader and Tony is strictly platonic in this fic, although he gets mentioned quite a lot in this chapter. I don't think there are enough fics where Tony has a positive female friendship, so this is that).  
> hope you enjoy! I will be posting a new chapter pretty soon.

It was Italy.

It was Tony's birthday.

It was a party.

Of course, it was a party. There had to be a party when Tony Stark was involved. There was no question. Why Italy? Well, that was a question that you had been asking yourself ever since you got the invite. Or, if you were to be more accurate, why were you even invited?

It had been a year since you stopped working for S.H.I.E.L.D. A year since you had decided to distance yourself from the program that you were forced into before you knew what was going on. You were a month away from finishing your degree when they got hold of you, and in a whirlwind of Skype calls and “strictly confidential” letters you said yes.

You said yes like you had nothing to lose.

But your relationship with your parents had never been quite the same after that, had it? At first your parents were excited for you. You couldn't tell them much but as far as they understood, this was a great opportunity for you. But then came the late nights and the endless notifications and before you knew it you were sucked in and you had lost contact with everyone you considered family, even your friends.

You laughed at yourself now for being so naïve.

S.H.I.E.L.D ate up people like you. They plucked them straight out of university, when they were young and didn't know any better, dumped them into an internship where they didn't ever get to see the “bigger picture,” and worked them until they felt death knocking.

It's so easy to get lost.

And you had gotten so, so lost. Because your work became your obsession. It ruined your relationships and your mental health. It pulled at strings you had buried and brought to light problems that you had thought were gone. So, so many times you begged yourself to stop, you heard the rational side of yourself pleading to stop destroying yourself with stress, but you never listened. You kept destroying yourself like it was the only thing you had left.

And you had always wanted more. That's what you remembered about it. You always wanted to be part of the bigger picture, and so, a few months before you quit, you wound up in a few pretty covert operations. You heard and saw horrific things that you never intended to. After one night in Puerto Rico you spent tailing and tracking - that's all they said it was going to be - with two other agents, ending up at a strip club that acted as a drugs front, and hauling an asphyxiated man from the black waters, you broke.

You just...shattered.

And weirdly, that wasn't even one of the darkest periods of your life. Because at least you had come to terms with something you finally admitted you couldn't handle. At least then, you knew when to quit.

No, the darkest hours had been when you were in the thick of it, of all the obsession, the anxiety, the intrusive thoughts...the toxic mess of your life that you spent either in front of a computer or covering up people's not so honest mistakes.

After quitting S.H.I.E.L.D., you moved from New York to Vancouver. You bought a small apartment, and you started again. You got a job in a coffee shop. You finished your degree and graduated. You even started repairing the broken relationships you left behind...but you were still working on that. It wasn't easy. God, it was never easy, because you were still on goddamn medication, you still had to pay rent and you still had days where you couldn't handle it at all. But it was a million times better now than how you had been.

Which was why you had been so surprised when you got the invitation.

Of course, you had told yourself you weren't going to go. That was what happened first. You read it and you tossed it into the fruit bowl - yes, you had one of those now - and planned to forget about it. Then, after too many mornings of avoiding having fruit entirely because you knew the invite was still there, you decide to email Tony to say, politely, that you couldn't make it. You didn't know how he would react after months of you being MIA online, but you figured that was what you'd do. But before you could hit send, you got a notification.

 _Don't even think about declining_ , it said. From Tony.

_Still tracking my every move, huh? I don't even know how you got my address. You could've just sent me an email._

He replied a few moments later with _an email ? Not for this occasion, sweetheart. It's my anniversary._

_Anniversary of what?_

_The miracle of birth. My birth. Now, do I need to arrange a flight for you or will you take the jet?_

You sighed, fingers tapping an unknown rhythm on the desk. But then you stopped tapping before you got caught in a loop.

_Ok._

_Is that an ok to the jet?_

You couldn't help a wry smile to yourself. _No, I'll take the plane, thanks._

 _Suit yourself. Business class, though. It leaves Vancouver on Thursday at eight hundred hours_.

You chuckled at your friend's habitual use of military time and wrote down the details that just arrived in your inbox.

You might be crazy, but you were going.

 

When you arrived at the airport on Thursday morning, and showed your pass to the staff, they gave you a suspiciously knowing look and lead you down a different corridor, taking your luggage and placing it on its own cart. A short gasp escaped you as you regarded the Stark Industries jet in its private hangar, followed by a dry laugh.

“Guess he couldn't resist the temptation, then.” You muttered to yourself as you boarded the sleek jet. Plush leather seats, velvet curtained windows, mini bar...this was Tony all over. You settled yourself into one of the seats and prepared for the long flight ahead. 

 

The plane hadn't gone very far from Vancouver before you started to comprehend what you were doing.

You were on a private jet to some hidden location in Italy to go to Tony Stark's birthday party.

Tony Stark, a person - you wanted to call him a friend, but you doubted he still considered you one - who you hadn't seen for a year. And it wasn't just Tony, either. It was the rest of them.

You felt the familiar pull of anxiety tugging on your strings and began to circle the rim of your mojito with your two fingers. Except both of them wouldn't fit on the rim, so it was one, then the other, over and over until you were caught in a loop and the sugar had all but disappeared. You didn't care. You went round it again.

There was a faint thought in the back of your overloaded mind that said you forgot to take your medication, but you kept going round the rim of the glass. And once more, because you did it wrong the first time.

Even though you didn't know what was wrong about it.

Even though you didn't know why that made you re - do it.

Even though you wanted to stop but you knew you couldn't, that there was nothing you could do, no one there to stop you - eight more hours of being trapped in your own mind -

“Ma’am?”

The trailing of your fingers didn't stop, of course, but you turned to look at the hostess, the rims of your eyes burning red. She either didn't notice, or didn't care.

“Mr. Stark wants to let you know that you'll be staying in the guest suite of the villa and that, if you wish, you can go straight up to your rooms when you arrive.”

Not missing the fact that she said “rooms,” you asked, “What time will we be arriving?”

“Ten o'clock this evening, ma'am, which is five a.m. in Italy. Is there anything you require?”

“Uhh…” you were barely paying attention, your finger still tracing the rim of the glass. “Another mojito would be great. Virgin, again, please.”

The hostess took away your glass, and relief somewhat flooded you. You had been able to let go. You had been able to break the loop. When the hostess returned with your mojito, she also handed you a brand new pair of headphones.

“Mr. Stark said you might be needing these.”

You smiled slightly, accepting them with a quiet thanks. _He had remembered._

Music was one of the only things that could ever help you escape from yourself, from those loops that you got stuck in for hours on end. It was a way to kill it before it started again. It was a way to enter a different world, momentarily, and live there like you could thrive. You pressed play and leaned your head back, letting the music seep into your brain.

You didn't touch the glass for the rest of the flight.

In what felt like an eternity later, you touched down in...well, you didn't exactly know. You could've been anywhere in Europe, and Stark could've just been playing “guess the private hangar” with you instead of inviting you to his birthday. Thankfully, that was not the case.

You stumbled out of the plane, legs stiff after so much sitting, and drew your grandma cardigan closer around you. It was breezy, even for a summer's night, and you were all kinds of exhausted, which made it all kinds of worse.

Half of your hair plastered to the side of your face, bags under your makeup-less eyes, headphones still around your neck and chewing gum that had long since lost its taste, you were a sight for sore eyes, and you were exceedingly glad no one could see you except the concierge (that was what you assumed he was, anyway, and you wouldn't put it past Tony.)

You could barely see anything it was so dark, but as soon as you exited the hangar pad, you entered gardens filled with fairy lights and manicured hedges, lanterns suspended above what appeared to be a lake, and the sound of crickets chirping. Your sight was limited due to the darkness, but you knew that it was the luxurious Edenic paradise that was Tony's trademark.

The villa was lit up when you reached it, although "villa" was a huge understatement. You thought mansion might fight the grand Italian house better.

It was nice and old looking on the outside, but on the inside it was a mixture of the old and the new - glass and low lighting combined with Romanesque statues, marble, and beige sofas. Somehow, he had made it work.

You reached your rooms and, shivering, you said goodnight to the concierge, and closed the door. For a few moments, you stood in the centre of your enormous room, and everything began to overwhelm you once more.

This time, it was the feeling of being in the same house as potentially all the Avengers, Tony, and the people you used to work with from S.H.I.E.L.D.

What were they going to think of you? You'd quit the job so suddenly and without much explanation, and then not spoken to any of them for a whole year, before showing up at this birthday party. You were completely out of your depth, and alone.

That was the worst part. You didn't have a human crutch to support you. No close friends. The only friends you had right now were the girl and boy you worked with in the coffee shop, and neither of them knew about your last job, and if they were here, you doubted you could rely on them to be your support.

All you could do right now was sleep - sleep for as long as you could get away with before having to make any human contact.

You began to wash your face, unable to leave it dirty when you got into the clean sheets. Only, once wasn't enough. Once could never be enough for you. You picked up the bar of soap and scrubbed your face again, for the fourth time, feeling tears start to threaten your eyes. It was one of the strongest compulsions you'd ever had, so you kept doing it. Scrubbing your face in tiny circles - your cheeks, nose, forehead and chin, over and over, until you were raw.

You looked up at yourself for a moment, your red skin practically peeling, the tears streaming down your face, and you put down the soap. That wasn't the hardest part. The hardest part was not picking it back up and scrubbing your face free of the dead skin you had created. It hadn't been as bad as that for a few weeks, now. And you knew it wasn't just the medication.

It was being here, this place, causing you so much doubt and anxiety that you feel back into old habits again. This wasn't your comfort zone in Vancouver that you had so carefully created for yourself. This was a separate dimension to your comfort zone. This was new, and scary.

 _It's just a birthday party. That's all it is. Then you can go home and forget about everything again._ The tears stopped as you realised you weren't trapped here. Tony would send the jet with you on it all the way back to Vancouver at a moment's notice, if that was what you wanted. You knew he would do that for you. But you owed it to him to show up. You owed it to him to try and be a good friend again.


	2. Second Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recovering from your jet lag, you quickly begin to realise how out of your depth you are.

You would have liked to fall asleep and wake up having found the party was over. Then at least you could go home. But you were not dealt such a lucky hand in life. Because when you woke up, it was midday the next day, and you were suffering from possibly one of the worst bouts of jet lag you’d ever had.

Wincing, you lifted your head from the pillow, (that now felt more like a rock than a soft cushion for your head) your head swimming, and the first unmistakable jabs of a migraine forming. You felt like you’d just been run over by a train and an elephant, simultaneously.

Vaguely, you realised you were still wearing your clothes from the flight. You debated staying as you were and just falling back asleep - but your migraine was too strong now, and you couldn’t sleep if you were still wearing the clothes that were, no doubt, caked in your sweat and dust from the flight.

So, reluctantly, you dragged yourself from under the covers, and hobbled to the bathroom, peeling off your clothes and starting the shower. The water reached just the right temperature in seconds, and the minute you stepped inside, soft blue lights lit up the curved marble walls, making you feel like you were underwater.

The steady stream of warm water soothed your aching joints, running in rivulets down your skin, and for once, you could escape the looming thoughts and worries that would enter your head as soon as you got out. You used your own body wash that smelled like coconuts and reminded you of the summer, letting the scent fill your nose and bring back the memories of past holidays and easier times.

When you came out of the shower, you wrapped the fluffiest, softest towel you could find around you, and re-entered your room, feeling fresher and less tired than before. The migraine was still there, of course, and that wouldn’t be going away for quite a while, but for the time being you drew back the curtains and let yourself soak up the view from the balcony.

You hadn’t seen it before, because it was too dark, but your room had a once-in-a-lifetime view of the gardens and the Italian countryside reaching beyond it. If you stepped onto the balcony and looked to your right, you could see the sunlight glancing off the rippling waters of a lake, nestled between rose gardens and archways. It looked like something out of a fairytale. How had Tony managed to get a place like this?

“Good afternoon, Miss L/N.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice of the AI. Somehow, you had forgotten about it - maybe it was because it didn’t seem to fit in a house so old.

“My name is Anita. If there is anything you require during your stay please inform me.”

“Oh, uhh...can you tell me where this is? I mean, where the house is. I wasn’t sure.”

“You are eight miles outside of a town called Treviso, which is near Verona in northern Italy.”

 “Where is everyone else?”

“Mr. Stark is on the terrace with Miss Potts. Mr. Barton, Miss Romanoff and Mr. Rogers are in the kitchen. Mr. Rhodes and Dr Banner are in the laboratory. The rest of the guests will be arriving this evening, along with Thor and Mr. Wilson.”

“Are they not staying here? The rest of the guests, I mean.”

“The Avengers, Miss Devautour, Mr. Stark and Miss Potts and yourself are the only ones staying here.”

You had to sit down.

Tony had not only flown you out of Vancouver on his own jet, but he’d also put you up in his own house along with his closest friends and Pepper’s assistant and told the rest of the guests to shove it. You didn’t deserve this, and you certainly couldn’t do this.

“Miss L/N?” Anita inquired.

You shook yourself from your panicked stupor. “Do they know I’m here?”

“The avengers are not aware of your presence. Mr. Stark wanted it to be a surprise.”

“A...surprise.” You repeated dumbly. This just kept getting worse and worse. “Anything else I should know?”

“Guests will begin to arrive from six p.m. Dinner will be served at six thirty.”

It was now two in the afternoon. If you took another pill to stop the migraine, you could sleep through the party and get the AI to organise a jet to take you home, when everyone else was busy with the party. Tony would never have to know about it. Sure, it would be an unbelievably shitty thing to do, but then, you’d be on your way home before any of them could ever do anything about it.

“Okay, thanks, Anita, but I think I’m just going to rest until the party.” You lied.

“Sure thing. I’ll inform Miss Potts.” After taking some aspirin, you let yourself settle back underneath the covers, an uneasy feeling spreading over your whole body as you drifted in and out of sleep.

 

_“She’s not ready for it.” The man muttered to the woman as you listened, with your ear pressed against the door._

_“She will be. This is what she wants, remember? And we could use her skills.”_

_“Don’t blame me if something goes wrong.” The voices vanished as you found yourself walking behind your fellow field agent. You were both in disguise in the strip club, the neon lights blinding you as you scanned the room for the suspect. His beady black eyes bore into you, and suddenly, he was putting a gun to his temple, and pulling the trigger. Screams erupted all around you. The music stopped and there was just the man, lying face down in the booth. The blood blurred and turned into water as you hauled the body out of the water. This man was young, and his eyes were wide open as if he had seen a ghost. “Dead.” The word echoed all around you, pulling you underwater, surrounding you._

_You reached towards the light, but your own tears blinded you. Your legs wouldn’t move when you tried to run. All you could see was the young man’s face, and the bruising around his neck, floating above you._  

You gasped as you woke up, swathed in sheets, a thin sheen of sweat covering your skin. You hadn’t had that dream since you quit your job, but you knew how it went.

The man and woman - your superiors - talking, the man shooting himself right in front of you in the strip club, pulling the body out of the water...it was all too familiar.

Before you could do anything, there was a knock on your door.

You panicked, throwing off the covers and wrapping a dressing gown around you. _Well, you were never going to be able to hide forever_. You checked the time. It was half five already. Shit.

Pulling the dressing gown tighter around you, you opened the door, only to come face to face with Pepper Potts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey lovelies, hope you enjoyed that chapter, and the general direction in which this story is going. I promise there will be some steve x reader next chapter. I just wanted to get things set up and establish the story before going into too much depth with anything else. Please let me know what you think, and watch for the next chapter! :)


	3. The Birthday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You summon up the courage to attend Tony's party.

“Pepper!” Her name fell from your lips, in a strangled and surprised sort of way.

You were in a dressing gown, having just woken up from a nightmare, and your hair was extremely questionable, but she still smiled her brilliant smile as if she didn’t even notice. At least, that was what you told yourself.

“Y/N. It’s so good to see you again.” And then she was hugging you, and it was all you could do to hug her back without seeing too shocked.

“I was missing you earlier.” She smiled at you again.

“Oh, I, um...I didn’t think you knew I was here.” You said, trying not to sound rude. “I thought Tony-”

She waved her hand dismissively. “He can never get much past me. But he was happy you agreed to come, and so am I.”

You managed a slight smile of your own. Pepper had always been so nice to you, even after everything. She was yet another person you didn’t deserve.

“I just wanted to let you know about the party. It’s nothing too formal, and you can come down whenever you’re ready. I know you must be exhausted. Dinner’s at half six, seven-ish, and then I guess Tony’s going to just do his own thing. You know what he’s like.” She winked at you.

“Oh, yeah, the…” you gestured vaguely behind you. “The AI let me know. But I’m not really sure where to go, for the party.”

“Just follow this corridor down to your right, take the stairs down from the guest wing and you’ll be in the living room. The place where we’re having drinks is not far from there. You’ll be able to figure it out, I’m sure, but if you have any problems, there will be people around to help you out.”

You nodded. “Right, thanks.”

“No problem, Y/N. It’s so nice to see you again! Come and find me later and we can catch up.”

She smiled, and walked back down the corridor. You closed the door, and sighed.

You hadn’t planned on her being that nice. Now it was just another thing to feel guilty about. The strange thing was, it felt genuinely like they wanted you to be there. If they didn’t like you or want to talk to you, then they wouldn’t have invited you, would they? They wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to get you there. And you were going to bail on them.

You sat nervously on the edge of the bed, staring at the dress that was carefully folded in your suitcase. If you really hadn’t wanted to be there, you wouldn’t have packed that dress. You wouldn’t have bought a gift for Tony. You wouldn’t have caught the flight in the first place. So what had made you do that?

It was your friendship with Tony, you realised. You more than owed it to him to be there. And Pepper. It didn’t matter about anyone else. As long as you showed up, and showed your support, it didn’t matter if anyone else had a problem with you being there. Not even you.

 

It was six, and you had just finished putting up your hair in a simple up-do that was meant to look effortless but just looked more like you had just ran through a hedge. You reached up to re-do it, and then realised that that was a slippery slope. You didn't know how long you'd be stuck there, doing it and re-doing it.

You clutched Tony’s gift - it was a meagre contribution, seeing as Tony had pretty much everything already, but you decided on a pair of violet - tinted sunglasses that he could add to his already enormous collection, and a book titled, jokingly, “Money Does Not Make You Better.” You hoped to god he would get the joke.

Smoothing down your little black dress, you stuck your phone in your skirt pocket - yes, this dress had pockets - and left your bedroom for the first time.

You followed the faint sound of jazz music, trying to quell your heart that was beating like a racehorse. You were fairly certain that most of the guests wouldn’t know who you were, as you didn’t know them, so that wasn’t a problem. The problem was being around the ones that did know you, and knew what you’d done.

You opened a set of double doors that lead into a low - lit room, that was filled with people - some familiar faces, but mostly people who were probably the ones who invited themselves. An elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling, and everyone was holding flutes of champagne and were very much dressed up - you felt even more insecure, and the dress with pockets was starting to feel like a bad choice.

You manoeuvred yourself towards the french doors that had been thrown open to allow for some fresh air. There were more people out on the terrace, too. Lanterns and candles lit up the picturesque landscape like a stage.

Tony was nowhere to be seen, as usual, at his own birthday party - he was probably relaxing in a jacuzzi elsewhere, and would appear later on, after dinner, drunk, and very much the life of the party.

Pepper was engaged in conversation with someone important looking, and probably someone who would recognise you, so you steered clear of that minefield.

Deciding to put yourself on the outside edges of the party, you stepped out onto the terrace and grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter.

As a rule, you didn't drink. It made for a despairingly dull life, but a safer one. One where you could remember all of your mistakes and know how to deal with them. In fact, you hadn't picked up a glass of anything much since being at University. You were a heavy drinker then, but so was everybody, and it made for a lot less stress and a lot less work being done. Reflectively, you realised that finishing your degree as an older, slightly wiser and sober adult was probably better than as a young, gullible and alcohol obsessed student.

No, the champagne was just something to hold - a crutch, seeing as you had already put down Tony's present on a side table where one of the staff would find it the next day and no doubt throw it in the trash. Despite it being nothing more than a prop, you took a sip. It tasted bitter, and fizzy, and expensive, like nothing you would usually drink.

Nobody seemed to mind that you were alone. You had received a few glances earlier as you came in, but you were too focused on making your way out of the throngs of people to notice. It would be alright for the moment - but then, everyone would get called in for dinner, and then you would actually have to make conversation. Then the real discomfort would begin, with a sprinkling of intrusive thoughts to top it off.

 _You're here because you owe it to Tony and Pepper. Nothing else matters_ , you reminded yourself.

“What's a pretty girl like yourself doing all alone out here?”

You started, almost spilling the champagne, and then realised that whoever it was couldn't be talking to you. Could they?

You turned around, and came face to face with Steve Rogers.

“C-Captain Rogers.” You stuttered. “I'm sorry, I-”

He smiled. “No, it's okay. Please, call me Steve. It's not _that_ formal of an occasion.”

You cracked a smile, still unaware of why he was bothering to talk to you. “Right. Steve.”

You'd met Steve twice before, the first time when he'd only been out of the ice for a few months and was still adjusting to civilian life, and needed a few pointers. They nominated you to help, since you were a young, a student and good with technology. The second time was brief, when he'd been called in for an operation that you were helping moderate as an assistant commander. Both times had been short, but you'd got the impression that Steve was a genuinely nice guy, and not the all-American cheese puff they'd cracked him up to be.

“So, how've you been?” He asked, as if you were old friends.

“I'm living in Vancouver.” You replied politely. You didn't know how to explain to him that you'd had one of the darkest times of your life under an organisation that everyone pretty much viewed as gospel, which had subsequently lead you to quit.

Steve nodded. “It's meant to be pretty good there, right?”

You smiled. “Well, I enjoy it.”

He chuckled. “I haven't been to Canada much, except on missions. Never really went on many holidays as a kid.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You said, looking around, at the party, and the general splendour of the place. “But this...this is insane. I didn't know Tony had a place like this.”

“It's like a whole 'nother world.” He agreed. “I think if you stayed here long enough, you could forget all about everything.”

Your eyes drifted up at the wistful sound of his voice. He was right - you could leave it all behind, if you tried hard enough. Maybe that's why you'd really come here. To escape what your life had become.

The silence drew out, and you realised that you didn't want the conversation to be over. Not when you'd finally found another person who was being civil to you.

“So, S.H.I.E.L.D. got you working hard lately?”

He gave you an odd look, and all sorts of thoughts began to race through your mind. Had you said something wrong - brought something up that he wanted to forget? 

“S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been disbanded.”

Your heart began to pound. “What?”

“Yeah. A bunch of stuff happened. Fury left, Maria Hill left, and now we’re not operating with them anymore.”

How could you have missed this?

“You didn’t know?” Steve frowned, looking at you curiously. “They tried to stop it from getting online, but nothing ever escapes the news.”

“I haven't...really been online that much lately.” That was an understatement. You had finished your degree, and had then become MIA from almost all of your online contacts. You'd never had any social media anyway, because S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't allow that when you were working for them.

“Oh, taking a detox.” He nodded sympathetically, and you decided to go along with it. Besides, you didn’t know how much he knew about why you’d left in the first place.

“Sometimes the internet just gets a bit much for you, huh? Well, especially for me, since I am a bit of a relic.”

Your heart melted a little. “Yeah, exactly. So many fake people online.”

“But in real life you can meet people who are far from that. You can meet people who make you realise that being around all those fake people is a waste of time.” He looked right at you, then, making you wonder what he really meant. “I never got to thank you for helping me out, before. You know, when I was adjusting.”

“It's no problem.” You assured him.

“No, really.” He said, seriously. “It was hard for me to get to grips with everything back then, in more ways than one, and you really helped me get some perspective.”

You smiled, and this time, it came naturally.

“I'm glad I could be of service.”

Your gaze lingered a moment longer, before you both began to notice some of the guests filtering back into the house for supper. Steve followed your eye line.

“I guess we'd better go in for supper. Shall we?”

He offered his arm to you, ever the gentleman. Shyly, you tucked your hand around his bicep, and let him guide you through the clusters of people to the dining room, which was set up with a number of circular tables draped with white tablecloths, where some people were already seated.

You both scanned the table listings, and found you were on different tables.

You couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

_Goddamn social hierarchy._

“Guess I'll see you later, then?” You asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Captain America flashed you a surefire smile. “You bet, doll.”

 

You sat down at your table, checking the time on your phone inconspicuously. Seven p.m. You reckoned you could stay around for about two more hours, have a chat with Steve, maybe finally talk to Tony, and then show yourself out. _That’s not so bad_.

But first, supper.

You were seated next to Penelope “Penny” Devautour, Pepper's assistant, and one of Tony's associates, Laurence Barratt, who kept flirting at you for the entire duration of supper, and more than once “accidentally” touching your leg under the table cloth. You tried to direct your attention towards Penny, whom you knew from your work at S.H.I.E.L.D., but Laurence couldn't take the hint and she wasn't paying much attention to you anyway.

In fact, everyone at your table was acting coldly towards you, even though you knew most of them. You knew this was coming. It was only going to be a matter of time before someone realised you were there. 

You managed to catch sight of Tony before long, who had, as you predicted, made an appearance towards the end of supper. He was wearing a blue pinstripe suit and, unsurprisingly, orange tinted sunglasses, even though you were inside and the sun wasn't far from setting.

A few people made speeches - Pepper, a representative an unknown organisation, and James Rhodes - that were, thankfully, short, and when everyone began to leave the dining room, you were more than happy to escape your dining companions. Anxiety was beginning to settle on your chest, pulling tight around your lungs, and you blamed it on the poor luck you had with table companions. It didn’t help that the music was impossibly loud, either.

Barratt had really made you uncomfortable, you realised, as you traced the small dragon pendant around your neck. You thumbed the silver, once, twice, and that was when you knew you needed to get some space, before you got caught in another loop. 

“Ah, look who finally showed up. Didn't think you were going to ever come down.”

You identified the voice as Tony, and guilt pierced you at his scarily accurate joke.

“So, what do you think?” He gestured widely with his overflowing cocktail glass.

You forced a smile, even though you were still circling your necklace.

 _Just stop. Stop doing this to yourself_.

“It's impressive. I didn't know you had a place like this.”

“It was my parent's, a family heirloom, if you will. I needed a project, so I renovated it.”

“Looks like you more than renovated it.”

“That may be so.” He shrugged “What do you think of the guest suite?”

You sighed. “It's perfect. Way more than I deserve, Tony. Thank you for everything you've done to get me here, I mean it.”

“Wow, you do mean that, don't you?” He whistled. “Sentiment. From you. Who knew it.” He said, but not in a harmful way. With Tony, 90% of anything he said was a joke.

You laughed. “I hope it doesn't rub off on you.”

“No chance.” He smirked, chugging back the cocktail. “Stick around for the fireworks later. Banner's on them and he's bound to screw it up.”

Tony waltzed off towards the nearest waiter, grabbing two glasses of champagne. You watched as he approached Pepper, handing one to her as she chatted with Rhodes, staring at her adoringly. You knew he was hanging onto her every word.

Some of your anxiety lifted at the sight of them, when Pepper glanced at Tony, the same adoration in her eyes. You were glad that they had each other.

After your chat with Tony, you managed to escape to a balcony on the study (which you assumed wasn't only one - this house was vast) for a breather. It was when you were breathing in the cool night air, the sweet scent of roses and cologne filling your nose, that you heard whispers coming from the corridor behind the door to the room you were in.

_“I’m telling you, I don’t even know why she’s here. Sure, someone invited her, but it sure as hell wasn’t him. Not after what happened.”_

Your ears perked up.

_“Apparently they were furious with her. Sent her packing as soon as they heard.”_

_“Exactly. Which doesn’t explain why anyone would want her back here. It’s like inviting your ex out to dinner after he smashed your eye shadow, drew on your Gucci belt with permanent marker and cheated on you.”_

_“Are you sure that you’re not just on about Kyle?”_

_“Yeah, he was a prick.”_

The rest of the conversation began to fade away as the pair of women carried on down the corridor, but it left you feeling shaken.

They couldn’t have been talking about you...could they?

 

For the rest of the night, you couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation you’d overheard. Maybe you were just being self centred. Nobody could care that much to have a private conversation about you behind your back, you were just being stupid and paranoid.

On the other hand, if it was about you…

Shaking your head, you turned your attention to the green and red fireworks lighting up the sky. The guests were poised, like players on a stage, their glasses raised to the bursting moon, as Iron Man circled the sky, looping around and doing somersaults mid-air. The guests gasped with delight, and you rolled your eyes.

You were pretty sure that somewhere, on the other side of the terrace, Steve was, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aand the plot thickens...  
> (I hope)   
> Thanks for reading! stay tuned for the next chapter which is coming really soon :)  
> (For anyone that's curious, this is sort of set after Winter Soldier and the downfall of SHIELD. I had do do my homework for this chapter haha)


	4. We're All in the Same Boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You decide to call it a night and head back to your room, but not before you encounter someone on the stairs.

It wasn’t until uni that you became a party person. Before that, you preferred staying in for movie nights than going out clubbing, which is what every teenager back then seemed to be doing. When you were in uni, it just kind of became...part of life. You had a huge paper due the next week? It didn’t matter. You’d just get wasted at some seedy nightclub and end up throwing up in a random bathroom later on, and forget all about it. You’d just bought some new shoes? Better break them in at someone’s pre drinks party.

But as you glanced at Tony, you realised that he’d always been one. Some people just were. They thrived around others, and coasted through the social world as if it were second nature.

That’s what you didn’t get about the phrase, “you’re all in the same boat.” It was something your parents used to tell you whenever you found life particularly difficult, especially at school.

It was bullshit.

Because, some people - the Tony Starks of this world - were not merely on a boat. They were on a luxury cruise liner, with swimming pools and free bars on deck, and chocolates on their pillows when they turned in for the night.

Meanwhile, you were stuck, alone, in a leaky dinghy that was lost at sea. Your only company seemed to be a seagull carcass and an oar full of holes. You could see and hear the people on the cruise ship - they waved jacuzzi-coloured cocktails at you, yelling, “we’re going to send help!” Whilst they sped off in the other direction. You swore you could still hear them laughing from your position in the dinghy.

 _Okay, maybe that metaphor went a bit far_ , you thought to yourself.

But it was true. No matter what anyone said, some people were just dealt a better hand to start off with.

 

Parties had changed a lot since the 1940s.

Of course, there was still the basic premise - a large amount of people, a large amount of alcohol, and some element of music and dancing. Modern music was something Steve still had yet to grasp, and the dancing style seemed to become more robotic, but he still felt the same way about parties as he had back then.

Bucky would drag him along, of course, and manage to wrangle a date for him. Then he would disappear with his girl, leaving Steve alone with his date, who would eventually leave to go “powder her nose,” and would reappear a few minutes later in the arms of a hunkier, better looking guy.

He tried not to let it bother him, of course. He didn’t blame them - how many beautiful dames want to dance with a guy who was a whole head shorter than them, and a hell of a lot skinnier?

But then, he would see Bucky emerge from a storage closet with his girl, both of their faces tinged red and hair mussed. They would whirl onto the dance floor, laughing and having a good time, and he would feel like someone just kicked him in the gut.

So, as a rule, he didn’t go to many parties back then.

Of course, after he became Captain America, things changed - he got a lot of uncomfortable attention from girls all the time, when he only really wanted the attention of one particular woman.

And, even though it was Tony’s birthday party, girls still gave him a lot of attention. He tried to be as polite as he could - they were nice girls, really, but he just wasn’t interested.

When Tony began his third round of shots, whilst wearing his suit and singing American Pie, Steve decided to call it a night.

He picked his way past the empty beer bottles and various purses and jackets, making his way towards more french doors to the small courtyard. He passed Sam and Rhodey having an arm wrestle in the kitchen, surrounded by shots of Kool Aid (really, he had no idea what people got up to these days) and Natasha cheering them on, although he wasn’t sure even whose side she was on. He contemplated saying goodnight, but they seemed invested in whatever it was they were doing, so he carried on to the courtyard.

The night air was still, with the distant sound of laughter and singing as soft as birdsong, and the scent of roses lingering in the air. The sky was a dark, velvety blue, dotted with stars like pinpricks.

He quietly reflected how nice it would be to dance here with someone.

Just the two of them, and the stars, perhaps a little vinyl player in the corner. Dancing under the night sky. 

He stood there for a while, getting lost in his daydream, before heading to his rooms.

 

After saying goodnight to Pepper, (Tony was a lost cause by this point) you decided to go back and rest before leaving the next day. You hadn’t managed to ask her about that - it felt too rude, asking the hostess when you could leave. You were feeling exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open as you trudged up the wide, marble staircase.

The party had been better than you thought it was going to be, though you hated to admit it. That was one of the things about you - you would get so nervous about things and expect them to be horrible, but when you came out on the other side alright, it felt weird. Like you didn’t deserve it, somehow. You thumbed your necklace again, finding the smooth surface comforting to touch.

Faintly, you could still hear the music reverberating through the walls - it was muffled, but it sounded like the music you usually listen to. It made you miss home, in a way. The home you had built for yourself after you fell apart. It was a lonely home - just you, but it felt comforting. Like you were the only person you’d ever need.

_But you know that’s not true._

“Y/N?” You looked up and saw Steve on the landing.

“Oh, hi, Steve,” you smiled, summoning up the courage to make small talk, “decided to call it a night, then?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid I can’t quite keep up with the times.” Steve said. He looked as if he was about to say goodnight, but then said, “will I be able to catch up with you tomorrow? We didn’t really get a chance earlier.”

“I think so.” You said, without thinking. Then you remembered your flight you still hadn't sorted out. “I’m catching a flight back at some point, though.”

You internally swore. It sounded like you were making excuses. And it wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk to him, you really did.

He nodded assuredly. “That’s okay. Good night, Y/N.”

Even though your mind was screaming at you, telling you you’d messed things up, you returned his smile. “Good night, Steve.”

 

He looked back at her walking to her room, and frowned as he felt a strange sensation pass through him. Like his insides were made of clouds and candyfloss. He shook his head at himself. Since when did he become a poet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, hope you enjoyed that chapter. I really wanted to write Steve's point of view and I think I'll use it in future chapters because it's interesting to do from both sides.   
> Next chapter will be coming soon! check out my peter parker x reader oneshot in the meantime :)


	5. Memories in the Gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve take a walk out in the gardens and get to know each other better. Then, something unexpected happens at supper.

Sleep didn’t grant you rest, that night.

Your dreams were filled with struggle...whispered conversations behind closed doors, bodies in cold, black water - drowning, drowning…

But when you woke up, it wasn’t the shaken feeling that you have after a bad dream. It was the unmistakable ache in your chest. The ache that told you how alone you were.

You were so, so alone.

Because if you went back to Vancouver, who was waiting for you there?

 _Maybe no one. But home is there, at least_.

Brushing away tears, you packed your dress carefully into your suitcase, trying not to get frustrated when the creases wouldn’t smooth out. You folded it and re-packed it many times after that - over and over, but nothing was right.

Finally, you threw the dress across the other side of the room and slithered to the floor, kneeling there, feeling empty.

Why did it seem as if as soon as things got a better, they got worse again?

Why did it seem like every attempt you made to help yourself recover failed?

_Because you can never go back and change what happened, and that’s what cuts you deep._

You didn’t know how long you had spent kneeling there in the middle of the room, but suddenly, your mind strained itself into action at the voice of the virtual assistant.

“Miss L/N, Miss Potts wishes to know if you are coming down for lunch.”

Lunch? Was that how late it was?

Your stomach’s answering growl was explanation enough.

You sighed. “Yes. Of course, I’ll be down in a second.”

“Wonderful.” Anita said, a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll inform Miss Potts.”

You took a quick shower, and changed into a pair of comfy, straight-leg jeans and a light white tank top. Checking your appearance in the mirror, you realised that the fact that you hadn’t had a restful night showed - dark circles hung from underneath your eyes and you looked especially pale, even for you.

But you weren’t one of those people who could just swipe on some makeup and go - it took time and effort for you to do makeup, and if you got it wrong, you could easily get into a loop, and keep washing it off and reapplying it. You knew yourself, and how little self control you had. Just because you could recognise the signs that it was getting worse, didn’t mean that you knew how to stop it.

So, deciding to go bare-faced, you left your room with your suitcase half packed.

The thought plagued you until you reached the sitting room.

 

You had lunch in a bright, sunlit room with a glass roof, just you and Pepper. The room had views of the extensive gardens and the hills beyond it, and it was all you could do not to just stare at the views the whole time. Everyone else was either on the shooting range, running or doing something in the lab, which was a slight relief, as you didn’t have to face them all at once.

Whilst you were having tea, (Pepper had coffee which you tended to stay away from, it only made you more anxious and tasted too bitter) you approached the subject of getting home.

“I was wondering if you knew when I could catch a flight back?”

She frowned. “You’re leaving? Already?”

You started to turn red. “I, uh...my job, I only took two days off…”

Pepper waved her hand nonchalantly. “Tony got me to sort that out for you, there’s no need to worry. I was hoping you’d stay for a few more days.”

Caught off guard, you didn’t know what to say. You had no idea she’d gone to the trouble of doing all that for you. Yet another thing you didn’t deserve.

But you had finally found people who wanted you around…

The conversation you had overheard began to play in your head as you tried to think of what to say.

_“I’m telling you, I don’t know why she’s here…”_

The only way you were ever going to find out if they were talking about you was if you stayed. That’s how you would finally get to the bottom of it. And the only way to hold onto the friends you used to have.

“I’d love to stay.” Pepper smiled delightedly.

“That’s fantastic! I’m sure you’ll have a great time, I was thinking we could …” As she chatted to you about what you could do around the area, you really wanted to believe that she wanted to be friends with you again. You couldn’t keep doubting them.

You couldn't keep doubting yourself, either.

 

After a sudden buzz from her phone, she excused herself, saying she had a call to take, and told you to make yourself at home, before disappearing into a study. You felt a little bad that she still had to take business calls when everyone else seemed to be on holiday, but then you heard laughter coming from behind the door and figured she’d be alright.

It was getting close to five o’clock, but the sun was still out as you ventured out of the conservatory and onto a pathway, the surface an old, intricate mosaic, covered by branches bursting with green, the sun leaking through gaps in the leaves, peppering the mosaic with tiny specks of light. You sighed and listened to the breeze, wandering along the path, trying to ignore all the thoughts and doubts throwing themselves at you.

 _If you stayed here long enough, you could forget all about everything._ Steve’s words echoed around your mind, and you felt the truth run through you.

You wanted to forget. You wanted to just forget, everything. You were sure that peace was right there, if only you could let yourself reach it.

Just as you turned the corner, you collided with something solid - a wall of muscle, that almost sent you tumbling to the ground -

Steve steadied you with a grip on your upper arms, setting you on your feet.

“You okay, Y/N?” He asked you, concernedly. “You looked a little lost in thought.”

You cursed yourself. “Sorry, I wasn’t really looking where I was going.”

Trust you to make that kind of idiotic mistake.

Steve looked at you again, in a surprised sort of way. “I thought….I thought you were leaving?”

“No need to sound so disappointed.” You cracked a smile, making a joke to alleviate your nerves.

He laughed. “No, I just thought you were flying back to Vancouver. Seemed like you had it pretty much worked out.”

You knew you’d sounded like you were making excuses. “I...decided I’d stay for a little while longer. I figured you only really get to be in a place like this once in a lifetime, anyway.” You paused, “I mean...I don’t get holidays very often, y’know?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Yeah, I know.”

You glanced up at him, taking a shot of courage. “Do...do you want to take a walk?”

“Sure, why not?” You turned, carrying on down the path.

After you went around the corner, the winding path opened out into a stunning arboretum, hosting all manner of different trees, each blooming with its own life, as if flowering into a theatre of nature...you brought your hand up to shield your eyes from the blinding sun, enabling you to gaze at each part in turn.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You looked at Steve. “Have you seen this before?”

He shook his head. “I only arrived a few days ago. This is...completely new to me.”

You were unable to speak for a while, both drinking in the wonder of the place, letting it fill you up.

“I always used to think I would never understand this world, but..” he smiled, looking around him, “I could get used to this.”

“I know what you mean.” You agreed. “I mean...I never lived in the 40s, but I used to read about it when I was in school, and it seemed like an entirely different world. Glamorous, sure, but pretty damn frightening.”

Steve turned to look at you, tilting his head. “That’s an interesting way of seeing it.”

“I’ve probably got a distorted view of it, I know..”

“No, you’re right. People like to think of it as glamorous, like you said, but they’re just glossing over how scary it really was.”

“Do people still blame you for not adjusting?” You asked.

He smiled. “Not so much, anymore. I’m a lot better than I used to be. You have to remember that when you first met me, I didn’t know how to use a kettle.”

You chuckled softly. “I’m hoping you can, now.”

“Are you kidding?” He said, mock-indignantly. “I can do it all. I can even switch channels on the tv, if I want.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I can get news stories on my phone, I can stream music…”

“Stream’s a pretty big word, Steve, d’you know what it means?” You joked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course.” He dug his smartphone out of his pocket. “Tony helped me set up Spotify, it’s got everything on there.”

You leaned in closer to have a look. “What do you listen to?”

He scrolled through his playlists, and you couldn’t help but feel impressed. He had a variety of old and new music, ranging from Frank Sinatra to Adele to Queen.

“When I was a kid, and my mom used to put on the radio when she made dinner, it used to play Count Basie, or Judy Garland. I used to come home and smell the cooking and hear the music and I got hungry straight away.” He chuckled. “Then, when I was older, I liked to listen to the Ink Spots.”

You nodded, smiling. “My grandpa used to play their records for me.”

Steve looked surprised. “I had no idea people listened to them anymore.”

“The Ink Spots, Ella Fitzgerald, the Andrews Sisters…” you smiled at him. “All classics.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “They used to play the Andrews Sisters on the radio when I was at training camp. They were gonna come and perform on the big stage, back when I used to do shows...but then, the Nazis…” he trailed off. “Well, y’know. But the Andrews sisters were swell.”

A smile crossed your face when you saw how delighted he was talking about music.

“And the fact that I can listen to them all whenever I want…” he continued.

“It’s pretty cool.” You agreed.

He showed you the rest of his music, before an alert popped up on his phone. He frowned. “Oh yeah, this damn thing keeps coming up. I don’t know what it is.”

You peered at the screen. The notification read, “system update ready for install.” You pressed your lips together, trying to think of a way to explain it to him.

“That’s just a program that will make your phone run better. Next time you have a few minutes, plug your phone in to charge and press install, and it should be fine.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Okay, thanks.”

He closed the apps that were running, and you noticed, with amusement, that he had Tinder.

“Been seeing any girls lately, Steve?” You smiled.

He frowned. “No, why do you - oh,” he blushed. “That.”

You stuck your hands in your pockets, trying not to laugh at how embarrassed he was getting.

“Nat got it for me, I swear I had nothing to do with it!” He exclaimed. “She kept saying I needed to start dating.”

 _That sounds like something Natasha would do_ , you reflected.

“It looks like you’re using your phone for a lot more things than you did since I last saw you, them.” You teased him. He positively red by now. “Catfished many girls?”

“No, Y/N, honest-” he stopped, looking at you. “You’re messing with me.”

You burst out laughing, and for once, it didn’t sound nervous, or forced.

“I don’t even know what catfished means.” He stated.

You sighed. “And lets hope it stays that way.”

The two of you carried on walking around the enormous gardens, breathing in the scent of pollen and flowers. You relished in the fact that it was just so easy, talking with Steve. You didn’t feel nervous or anxious. You just felt like you had a friend, a real one, and that counted for a lot more than many people thought.

 

He was more than a little surprised when you started talking about the music of his past that your grandpa used to play for you, and it took you both back, to memories sweeter than apple pie. He had missed having someone who he could talk to about his childhood - Bucky was still missing - without them patronising him, or claiming to know more about it than he did.

It reminded him of when it had only been a few weeks since he’d come out of the ice. He’d been in a funk, because of how different everything was, and how he understood barely anything. When Fury had asked him if he wanted any help, he had refused, but sure enough, there you were, a few days later. You had showed him how to make calls and send messages, how to use certain kitchen appliances, how to use the laundromat - all the while being patient and not condescending in the slightest. He had missed that.

 

A golden haze filled the gardens as late afternoon turned into early evening, filtering through the leaves as you walked back to the house. Time had passed like the flavour of your favourite ice cream - gone too soon, as it was washed away by the presence of others. It had flown by, and you were hesitant to join the others, but you decided that you were going to face them one time or another.

Tony and Pepper were having supper outside on the terrace, whilst Bruce, Natasha and Clint were in the kitchen getting food.

Nerves began to light up inside you again, but you tried to brush them aside. You’d met all these people before - hell, you’d spoken to Natasha briefly at the party the previous night. What was there to be afraid of?

As if on cue, the conversation you’d overheard played again in your mind.

_“Apparently they were furious with her. Sent her packing as soon as they heard.”_

As soon as who heard?

“Y/N?” Natasha said your name, prompting you to break from your stupor. “We’re going to eat out on the terrace, if you want to join.”

“Yeah, sure.” You answered, simply because if you said no, it would sound horribly rude, even though the thought of eating in front of people still made you anxious.

“You too, Steve.” Natasha called, disappearing outside with Bruce.

Clint gave you a nod as the two of you came into the kitchen. “Y/N, I haven’t seen you in a while.” He shook your hand.

“Were you at the party last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, sorry I missed you. We’ll have to catch up, yeah?” You nodded, watching him step outside, burrito in one hand and a diet mountain dew in the other.

You didn’t know if it was just you being paranoid, but even though his words were friendly, his whole demeanour had changed when he saw you walk in. It was the same with Sam. They both seemed uncharacteristically cold and distant around you, the expression lacking in their greetings. You wanted to tell yourself you were being stupid, but the words were still tugging at your thoughts, making you see it from a different side. What if you had done something to unknowingly offend them?

“You alright?” Steve asked, getting two glasses down from the cupboard.

“Yeah, swell.” You plastered on a smile, making yourself a sandwich.

A thought crossed your mind. “What’s it like, when you’re all together like this, not on a mission or anything?”

He contemplated your words. “It’s different...strange, but not bad. Sometimes we don’t know how to act around each other when we’re not giving or following orders, but I think...I think being like this is good for us, you know? Helps the dynamic become more...natural.”

You smiled slightly. “I can see that.”

 

Whilst you were making food, you heard Sam, Bruce and Rhodey arguing about who was the “hottest of the Jennifers.”

“I’m just saying,” Sam said, through a mouthful of burrito, “Aniston was hot when she was young, but she’s had too much botox for her to be attractive anymore.”

You and Steve went outside, giving each other amused glances.

“You have to remember that I grew up with her on tv, and she considered was one of the hottest women of my generation -” Bruce began.

“-aka the 1930s-”

“I’m not that old!” Bruce protested.

“Hey!” Steve interjected. “I was born in the 30s!”

“Making you even more of a senior citizen than Bruce.” Smirked Sam.

“Better watch out before something other than your salad turns green, buddy.” Tony called out from the swing seat.

“I’m with Banner on this one.” Rhodey said. “Aniston is the winner.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to argue, but then caught sight of you sitting down, and went quiet. “Oh, hey, Y/N.”

Trying to hide your confusion and growing anxiety, you shot him a small smile, before taking a bite of your sandwich. You all ate in an uncomfortable silence for a while, before Sam began to speak. 

“Heard from S.H.I.E.L.D. lately?” He asked you.

Steve shot him a look.

“I, uh...what do you mean?” You replied nervously.

He shrugged. “Just wondered. You and Maria Hill are still on good terms, right?”

You hadn’t really talked to Maria much, but from the times you had, she’d been perfectly nice to you, if a little forthright. Still, though, you had no idea why Sam was asking you about her.

“What about Nancy Trigeur?”

“Sam, don’t -” Tony began, before he was cut off.

“-heard from her?”

Nancy Trigeur had been one of the agents that had accompanied you when you went on that mission that ended with the two of you hauling the man’s body out of the water. Before you left, the two of you had been on pretty good terms. You hadn’t heard from her since. What bothered you more, though, was how Sam knew that.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Sam said. “And I’m sure that’s what you said when they accused you of disobeying orders in the field.”

“What?” Suddenly, your own voice coming from your mouth was the loudest thing on the terrace. The sun became too bright, the birds too noisy - you wiped clammy palms on your jeans under the table, struggling to stay calm.

“Don’t play coy, Agent L/N.”

Something that felt like a shock wave hit you, and you were plunged back into the memories you had tried to bury - the ones where you couldn’t fight the darkness that threatened to overwhelm you.

You looked frantically around the table, at Clint and Natasha, who were just staring back at you with the same judging expression as Sam.

“How did you know about Trigeur? That operation was strictly confidential.” You were sure your voice was shaking.

“Oh, we all know about it. We all know about how you disobeyed your orders and threatened the success of the mission and the lives of your colleagues. Not to mention the information that almost got leaked.”

There was a dead silence after that, in which all you could hear was your blood rushing in your ears and all you could feel was your heart pounding in your throat.

“It’s...it’s not true.” You said, trying to defend yourself. “I wasn’t fired. I quit the job.”

“Sure.” Sam’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “Bet that’s what you told everyone.”

Tony shook his head. “She’s not lying, Sam.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Tony, please. You don’t need to defend her.”

“I don’t know what they told you, but I quit the job.” You said, trying to muster some confidence.

Sam sat back in his seat. “Well, if you’re following through with this lie, then -”

“Enough!” Steve glared at his friend. Sam went silent, his mouth forming a thin, annoyed line.

Tony sighed. “Y/N, I think I owe you an explanation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger! (but I'm not, really) ;)  
> hope you enjoyed that chapter! I actually do like the Ink Spots and the Andrews Sisters - they're really worth a try if you enjoy old - fashioned music, or just something different to listen to.  
> Next chapter is coming soon - finally the truth behind the overheard conversation will be revealed :)  
> thanks for reading!


	6. An Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally find out the truth, and it's not what you expected.

You held your breath, heart pounding as you awaited Tony’s words.

“Y/N quit S.H.I.E.L.D. a year ago.” Tony said to the other Avengers, whose faces were expressions of shock and disbelief. He turned to you. “Whilst you filed for resignation under personal circumstances, and it was accepted, that is not the story you would find in the records.”

Trying to quell your racing heart, you asked, “what do you mean?”

He took a deep breath. “They say that you were fired for disobedience in the field, endangering other agent’s lives and mishandling confidential information.”

It took you a few seconds to process what he said. For a moment, you just sat there, staring at Tony, unable to move.

“But...I don’t understand.” Frowned Rhodey. “In the military, what you did would be worthy of a court-martial. Why wasn’t there a trial?”

“Trials are messy. They wanted it to be clean, and swift, so no one would ask any questions.” Tony explained.

You swallowed, nerves crawling up your throat, making your breath grow shallow. Why would they do this? You'd thought that they were accepting of your resignation.

“So...it’s not true?” Bruce asked, hesitantly.

“It couldn’t be further from the truth.” Pepper said, standing up. “Y/N would never do any of that.”

“But why would they say that? Why would they make all that up?” You asked, frustration creeping into your voice.

After everything you’d done for S.H.I.E.L.D., this was how they repaid you?

“Think about it.” Tony put his hands on the table. “One of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most successful employees, known of in every division, and seen as an example for future interns quits her job out of the blue - people are going to start asking questions.”

“What, did they think I was going to write an expose about them or something?”

Tony shrugged. “Among other things. The important thing was that you knew stuff you were not necessarily qualified to know. That was a secret they managed to slip past their superiors. They needed to sentence you for something so bad that no one would ever find out all the stuff they were trying to hide.”

You gazed at your hands. It all made sense now...how easily they’d accepted your resignation. They had already set the wheels in motion by then, you suspected. And that conversation you had overheard… _”apparently they were furious with her - sent her packing as soon as they heard.”_

You had known that people were going to talk about you - that’s what they did - but now everyone thought you were some dangerous, unstable megalomaniac (okay, maybe that was pushing it). They had all been told a lie just so people would respect S.H.I.E.L.D. and hate you. You should have seen it coming.

Before you could sink further into your pit of worry and self-doubt, you felt Steve’s warm hand resting on your shoulder, comfortingly. Gaining some courage, you asked the question that had been plaguing you.

“How...how many of you were told I was fired?”

Their uneasy expressions told you enough. Natasha cleared her throat uncomfortably, glancing at Clint for support.

“None of us wanted to believe it, Y/N.” He said. “We all asked after you when we didn’t hear from you for ages. That was the answer we got.”

“It never seemed like the truth.” Natasha agreed. “But it was S.H.I.E.L.D., and we were contractually obliged to listen. Now it seems that we can’t even trust them.”

You exhaled, your anxiety still weighing on your mind. How were you supposed to get a job or even an internship now, with that hanging over your record? And was that why your family didn’t want to get in touch with you - because of the lies they had been told?

Tony looked guilty. More guilty than you thought was possible for him. Pepper slipped his hand into hers, and squeezed it reassuringly.

“We’re sorry, Y/N. We should have told you sooner.” She said.

“No.” You said. “There’s...there’s no need to be sorry, it’s my fault - I didn’t speak to you for months, I-”

Steve shook his head. “There’s no need to apologise. Your superiors are the ones at fault.”

You gave him an apologetic look all the same, because you felt like the worst person on earth for not talking to him, or any of them, before. And now that you realised how much you enjoyed his company, you regretted that time you had missed. You could've done with a friend. 

You decided to voice your concerns. “But I don’t...I don’t know how I’m meant to get a job...or -”

“We just need to do some damage control.” Tony said, in a confident voice that you wish you could have. “I’ll take a look and see what I can do to clear your record.”

Managing to smile weakly, you thanked him. You were more grateful than he could ever know for not mentioning the reason that made you quit.

Maybe one day, you would be able to tell them.

 

As night painted its murky violet hue across the sky, and stars began to outshine the dimming lanterns, the others began to drift inside, complaining of the sudden chill and desire to play Monopoly. You had preferred to stay outside, despite the goosebumps forming on your upper arms and the occasional chattering of your teeth.

Steve stayed outside with you, unable to leave you on your own after what you’d just found out. He didn’t try to talk, to get anything out of you - and truthfully, he was comfortable sitting in the dying light with you, no useless small talk - just the company.

 

A few weeks after you had left your job, and he had returned from his mission to locate the winter soldier with Natasha, he had felt completely lost. Fury had died and come back to life, it seemed- S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised and his best friend was a robot for HYDRA and didn’t even recognise him.

That’s what seemed to hurt the most. In the dead of night, what made his heart ache wasn’t just the loss of Peggy - now, it was the loss of his best friend to forces that were too powerful for him to fight. He was still searching for him, never letting himself give up hope that he could get the one thing left from his past back. But, so far, they had reached a dead end. He needed a friend - someone he could talk to, someone who wouldn’t tell him he needed to move on from the past. Someone who could help him go back whenever he wanted to.

He had thought of you - Y/N, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who had helped him out when he was only just out of the ice. He barely knew you, but on a whim, he contacted Fury, asking for your whereabouts. When it had been a week without a reply, he contacted Maria Hill. She had replied to him with only the news that you’d been fired. There had been no explanation.

Steve found it hard to believe - he didn’t know you that well, but you’d seemed reliable. Sure, you were young - like you had only just got out of college - but you were honest. You didn’t sugarcoat the truth- you gave it to him, with as much charm as you could muster, and you lent him an ear. That was more than he could say for other people. 

In short, you were the most genuine person he could think of, this side of the ice.

“You okay?” A voice said from beside him.

He turned to you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small smile. “It’s going to be alright, Y/N.”

You laughed, slightly bitterly, your shoulders lifting up and your head dipping in an unwitting display of discomfort. “I know. It’s just that, I wish they hadn’t lied to everyone. They’ll all hate me now, for sure.”

“Then let them.”

You scoffed. “I can’t rest easy knowing that they think of me one way - as this failed agent, someone who let everyone down.”

“No, I’m serious.” Steve twisted in his chair, reaching across and gripping one of your hands in his. “Who cares what they think? You know it’s not true, and that’s all that counts.”

You listened to his words, and you wondered what it would be like - a life where you could live, free from worrying about other people’s opinions of you, other people’s judgements.

It sounded like heaven. And maybe, you could get there, if you let yourself.

“You’re right. You always seem to be right, damn it.” You laughed softly, shaking your head.

Steve smiled. “Part of the charm...and the job.”

“You mean that you have to be right, ‘cause you’re Captain America?” You chuckled.

“Nah,” he said, “‘cause I owe it to people to be honest with them, no matter what.”

You turned and looked at the sky, thinking about what he had said. “That makes more sense. You don’t want to be good, or honest, because you’re Captain America. You want to be good because you’re Steve Rogers, and it’s in your nature.”

He glanced at you, surprised.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Who am I to say, anyway? I’m an ex S.H.I.E.L.D. who disobeyed orders, apparently.”

“My ma used to say that it takes strength of character to laugh when you’re upset.” He mused.

“Like you said...part of the charm.”

 

It wasn’t a perfect night - after all, you had just been informed that S.H.I.E.L.D. had lied on your record (in a way that you were pretty sure was illegal) - but sitting there with Steve, and your friends in the next room, ones who wanted to believe in you, it felt closer to something good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks for reading! I'm sorry for making you wait so long to find out what happened, and I hope it lived up to your expectations :) I know this one is kinda short but I just wanted to get you off that cliffhanger as quickly as possible.   
> I just wanted to say thank you for all the lovely comments - you have been very kind and hopefully you enjoy the next chapter! I will post it as soon as I can. Stay tuned and check out the oneshot I posted, (peter parker x reader) if you want.


	7. Verona On a Cloudy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, Steve and the others take a trip to Verona.

Eleven people had died trying to locate the winter soldier before Steve and Natasha got involved.

People who hadn’t believed he was a myth had gone searching for him, and had lost their lives in the process.

Of course, that just more information that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t want getting out. Information that chased your dreams and turned them into nightmares, living ones, that you experienced whenever you let your mind wander too far. If you could have gone back in time, you wouldn’t have gone to the board meetings. You wouldn’t have had the briefings, gone into the archives...you wouldn’t have got yourself into the whole damn mess in the first place.

But now, sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at the wall, you had no choice but to deal with it. Deal with everything. So many times you had regretted all that time lost when you were in S.H.I.E.L.D. - so many times you wished you could go back in time and say no in the first place. Quickly you learnt that looking back at the past with regret wouldn’t change anything, and that knowledge was what gave you hope now.

 

It was Sunday morning, and a cloudy haze was covering the sky.

Whilst the others argued that the chance of rain was imminent, Natasha claimed that a cloudy day was the best weather for sightseeing.

“The sun won’t be in your eyes, and Banner won’t have to worry about taking his SPF 100 sunblock.” She said, sipping her banana smoothie.

“I don’t even use sunblock.” Bruce muttered.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Yes, I can see that.”

“As much as we appreciate the travel advice, it would injure Cap’s ego if his hair got drenched with rain.” Tony quipped from the coffee machine. You couldn’t help a smile creep onto your face as Steve’s hands wandered to smooth down his hair self-consciously.

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“Well, I’m in.” Clint said.

“A trip sounds good.” Rhodey agreed, glancing at Tony. “You in, Tony?”

“Nah.” He half-smiled, throwing his arm around Pepper’s shoulders. “We have some unfinished business to attend to, I believe.”

He winked at her, and she burned as red as the fruit that she was allergic to. None of you missed the implication.

“Great. Keep it to yourself, next time.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Are you coming, then?” Natasha asked Sam. 

“We’re going to need the house to ourselves, I’m afraid.” Tony added, winking again.

“Tony!” Pepper admonished.

“So many innuendos…” Bruce said, under his breath.

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I’m up for it. If it’ll shut him up.”

“Well...if no one invites me, I guess I’ll drive you.” Steve sighed, mock-dramatically. “Y/N?”

You nodded, surprised at how easy it was for you to commit to a social event for once. 

 

Half an hour later and you, Steve, Clint and Natasha were piled into Steve’s 1970s Camaro (that was technically Tony’s, but that man had a ridiculous number of cars that he had no use for, only to blow up when he was running tests for his suit). Natasha had called shotgun, and you happily handed the map to her, as your orientation skills left much to be desired.

Bruce, Rhodey and Sam had decided to go in a different car, and you had this suspicious, creeping feeling that Sam was trying to avoid you. Even though what he said had made you anxious out of your mind, you didn’t blame him. He had actually believed you had done all of that - which would have made you a criminal - and you two weren’t really that close anyway. No, you’d have to be a monster to still be annoyed with him.

You just hoped you hadn’t done anything to offend him. _Did I say something? Did I somehow do something to make him mad, or is he just guilty?_

Your thoughts quickly began to spiral out of control, and your fingers began to trace the fabric of the seat belt, running up and down the sides in a mechanical, calculated way that you knew would lead to no good...you tried to make yourself stop, but you were already falling down the rabbit hole -

“Y/N?” You jumped in your seat at the sound of Steve’s voice. He glanced at you from the wing mirror. “Verona sound good?”

Somehow, a huge smile found its way onto your face, lighting up your eyes with excitement. Your fingers didn’t stop tracing the seat belt, but at least you had something else to focus on, now. “Sounds better than good.”

 

It was one o’clock - you’d stopped for pizza at a roadside takeaway halfway on your way to Verona, and Natasha had sleepily told you to ride in the front seat, whilst she and Clint crammed into the back and fell asleep on each other shortly after muttering to Steve to not crash the car.

You peered doubtfully at the map whilst Steve drove. “I have to confess something.”

“Uh oh.”

“My map reading skills are very... limited.” Even though S.H.I.E.L.D. had run a brief course on orientation, on most of the operations you had gone on, the information and maps had been fed to you through a comms radio, and the rare times where you’d actually needed to map read, you’d left it all to Nancy.

He huffed. “Well, that just won’t do, will it, doll?”

You gave him a wry smile, having no idea where this sudden confidence was emerging from. “Sorry, Captain, guess you’ll have to manage on your own.”

“Nah, it’s alright.” He said. “I can pretty much figure it out from here. My Italian isn’t that great, though.”

“Makes two of us,” you admitted, “but still - Nat’s fluent, isn’t she?”

You both glanced at the backseat through the wing mirror, your eyes catching for a split second. Both of your companions were fast asleep.

“A lot of help she’s gonna be.” Steve said, sarcastically. “What does that sign say, on your left?”

“Ar-Arzignano.” You said, trying to wrap your tongue around the foreign words. It was true, you were proficient in French, and had a bit of German and Russian, but Italian you couldn’t seem to master. Luckily, he didn't seem to mind that much.

Steve drove at 30 through the little provincial town. It was mostly sandstone buildings, gift shops and undulating hills in the distance. You opened the window slightly, letting the breeze ruffle your hair, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The impending realisation of reaching the city, which would be full of people, undoubtedly, was starting to kick in - you weren’t good with crowds, as a fact, but for once you allowed yourself to dwell in the moment, cliche as it sounded. Reaching across, you gestured for the button for the sound system.

“May I?”

“Sure.”

You switched on the radio, tuning the knob until you found a station with reception. You had left the town, and were back into the countryside by now - fields of corn and maize sailing past, the occasional wooden shed bus stop - so the only one that wasn’t just white noise was “Radio Italia Musico.” A sudden heavy, grunge beat burst through the speakers, making you both jump.

“Sorry.” You said quickly, turning down the volume. Amazingly, Natasha and Clint didn’t stir.

Thankfully, the song soon ended, replaced by a mellow, softly-sung tune. All the words were in Italian, and you had no idea what they meant, but Steve seemed to enjoy it.

Looking at the map, you managed to spot Arzignano, and trailed your finger in the direction you assumed you were going.

“How are you doing, Y/N?” Steve said, smirking as he looked at you with the map. You returned his smirk with a tentatively confident one.

“We’re headed to Signolo.”

“Are we?” He nodded his head over to the signposts. Signolo was written nowhere, only Montebello Vicentino.

Your brow furrowed as you examined the map more closely. After a few seconds, Steve put you out of your misery.

“You’re holding it the wrong way, doll.” He smiled, beginning to laugh.

A slight blush of embarrassment blossomed over your cheeks. “Oh,” was all you managed to say.

“Well, good to know one of us knows that we’re going in the right direction.” Natasha muttered, yawning as she sat up. “Although, I would have expected the ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to be better than Cap at navigation.”

"What can I say? It's been a while." You said.

Clint woke up shortly after, stretching like a cat. “We’re still thirty minutes away?!”

“How the hell do you know that?” Steve frowned at him from the wheel.

He flashed him a small device attached to his wrist, which you assumed to be a tracker. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Great.” Steve mumbled. “Couldn’t have shown us that earlier when we were trying to get out of Trevisa.”

“Treviso.” Corrected Natasha, in a perfect accent. “You’ve got to work on your pronunciation.”

“You’ve got to work on not putting your shoes on the seat. We’re borrowing, remember.” Steve chided.

Nat sighed. “A shame. It’s a sweet ride.”

“Thought you were more of a ferrari, lamborghini type.” Clint interjected, tapping something on his tracker.

“I’m an “if it’s expensive and trashy i’ll take it” kinda girl.”

“Hey!” Protested Steve. “This isn’t trashy.”

Nat tilted her head, humming in disagreement. “It is, in a good way.”

You smiled at their easy dynamic. For the rest of the ride 

 

When you finally arrived in Verona, the sun was peeking through the clouds and trying to reach the bustling streets. The noises felt deafening to your ears, the scents overpowering, and you felt yourself reluctant to leave the car.

But when you did, you were awestruck by what you saw.

You all met Sam, Bruce and Rhodey at a coffee shop within ten minutes. Whilst you were ordering your drink, Sam sidled up next to you.

“Uh, Y/N, I…” he swallowed. “I want to apologise for giving you a tough time the other night. I was way outta line, and now that I know what really happened, I just...hope you’re ok.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden apology. Managing you smile, you shrugged. “It’s alright. You couldn’t have known, anyway. Just forget about it.”

He seemed happy enough with that, and even offered to pay for your drink. You shyly accepted, and sat down next to him at the table. Whilst the others drank their coffee, you glanced over at Bruce, who seemed to be just as nervous as you. He was fidgeting in his seat, eyes darting all over the courtyard you were sitting in. You didn’t know if it was reassuring that someone seemed to be suffering as much as you, but then you saw Natasha nudge him and point out something at the far corner, and his expression dissolved into a relaxed smile. She whispered something into his ear, and he chuckled throatily.

Trying not to pay too much attention, you felt a melancholy feeling sweep over you. Sometimes, you thought about the future, and spending it with someone - but when you were working at S.H.I.E.L.D., you pretty much gave up all hope, as it killed whatever social life you had left. It wasn’t so bad, you supposed. At least you weren’t out embarrassing yourself in front of cute guys at bars every night - you wouldn’t even make it inside a bar, let alone chat up someone.

But it was everywhere, in Verona - couples walking along, hand in hand, taking pictures together, making out (you averted your eyes, suddenly extremely interested in the cobbles of the street). Along with the overwhelming sense of loneliness, and the invisible fist clenching at your windpipe when you tried to take a deep breath, you started to feel slightly queasy.

It wasn’t like you didn’t smile when Sam cracked a joke, or laugh when Bruce forgot to rub in the sunblock on his nose - but general feeling of impending doom was starting to get you in your head, even though you didn’t know why.

 _What’s going to happen that would be so bad?_ You asked yourself.

“Hey,” Steve whispered into your ear from beside you, “you want to get out of here?”

Before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand and dragged you from your position in the group photo. You stumbled after him, barely able to keep up, wondering what on earth he was doing. He led you around a corner, and under an archway.

“Steve?” You said, unsure of what he was doing. He just grinned at you.

“How are you with heights?”

You tilted your head. “Why do you ask?”

Then, you followed his gaze upwards toward the sky. The building in front of you reached for what seemed miles into the open sky, making your eyes water as the sun shone onto the summit. You looked back at Steve, who was already sprinting towards the door, and disappearing up the steps. 

 

Your legs were burning, your throat was gasping for water and you were pretty sure you were starting to see lights that weren’t really there as you climbed up the steep steps to the top of the tower.

Steve was miles ahead of you, taking the steps two at a time, whilst you were practically hugging the wall trying to avoid the drop.

 _Damn super soldier_ , you thought. Still, though, you pushed your legs to take you further, praying that he wouldn’t turn around to see you, a red and panting mess at least four steps behind him. It wasn’t that you had a problem with heights, or climbing stairs. You really didn’t. But you’d stopped working out when you quit your job, and except from the occasional run along the waterfront when you were late for work at the coffee shop, you did basically no exercise.

Just as you were starting to feel like you were going to black out, you saw light at the top and Steve’s shadow on the sandstone floor. Muscles screaming, you struggled to the top, oxygen filling your lungs as you stepped toward the ledge to take in the view.

All of Verona was spread out in front of you like a map, the golden sunlight of the late afternoon soaking the tops of the buildings and hills which rose in the distance, drunk in a heat haze over the cerulean sky. Was it a heat haze? You had no way of knowing as your eyes were still watering from the exertion.

Steve moved to stand beside you. “Not bad, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean I almost passed out during the climb, but it’s a pretty view.” You joked, drinking in the landscape of the place. You’d seen nothing like it in your life, it was like a painting that people would pay to see, and somehow you were standing right in the middle of it.

Steve chuckled. “It sure is nice.”

You stood there for a while, side by side, just as you had done the previous night, and reflected that it wasn’t such a bad thing that you were here.

Sure, the coffee shop might give you a hard time for missing so much work, and you’d definitely get an earful from your coworkers once you got back, and there was the fact that everyone thought you were a failed agent, but for now you knew you would be alright. At least for a little while, before you took the plane back to Vancouver, back to everything you were trying to avoid.

“D’you think the others will be mad when they find out we ditched them?” You asked Steve, who just smiled.

“If they’ve got a brain between their ears they’ll follow us and come up here, too.” He said, then tilted his head. “Well, I’m not sure about the brain part.”

“What’s that, Rogers?” You heard footsteps behind you, signalling the arrival of your companions. Feeling a little reluctant to have the moment cut short, you gave them a small smile.

“Can’t say we missed you two in the photo. It was a big improvement.” Clint said.

“Yeah, saved us a lot of editing and cropping.” Nat scanned the view, and you noticed she had barely broken a sweat from the climb. “This is nice.”

“Yeah. Bruce and Sam are still coming up, but we’re not sure Banner will make it.” Rhodey said, winking at you. “You okay, Y/N? You two kind of took off, earlier.”

“Yeah, I wanted to see what this was like.” Steve said, before you had to formulate an answer. Before long, the others joined you, and you ended your day trip standing at the top of the tower, Verona in front of you and your worries behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed.   
> Again, big thank you to the people who left comments on the last chapter, it's so great to have feedback, and I'm very grateful. I tried to make this chapter slightly less serious, because after all, the reader deserves to have some fun :)  
> Stay tuned for chapter eight, coming soon...


	8. Tennis in the Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you make pancakes, discover you suck at tennis, and run into an old acquaintance...

Steve woke early that morning. It was the light that disturbed his peaceful slumber - it seemed to come crashing through the curtains before it was even six in the morning and just like that, he was awake.

He hadn’t been sleeping all that well before he came here, he reflected - it had been a mess of staying up late, subsequent sleepless nights, and early starts to go running, which had taken a toll on his health. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew he was slipping back into old habits again - endless memories of the war, haunting him in his dreams. The last few nights had been better, sure, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it got worse again.

Before the war broke out, and before his life changed, he had always been a troubled kid - always worrying about everything, all the time. He could remember telling his ma that he couldn’t sleep at night, and she would just stroke his forehead and tell him to shut his worries in a box, and put it in the cupboard until morning. But soon his thoughts became too much for the box, too much even for the cupboard, and they’d just burst out everywhere and make a mess.

He gained more confidence when he went to Camp Lehigh, even before he became Captain America - he was where he knew he needed to be, doing his bit for the country, despite everyone telling him he couldn’t. Being Captain America always bolstered his confidence, always made him believe he was capable, no matter what came his way. But sometimes, he felt the much more worried and skinny Steve emerging, who he knew was the real him, underneath everything else,and this was starting to feel like one of those times.

Shaking his head, he got out of bed and splashed his face with cold water. There was no use letting the anxious Steve win, when everyone expected him to be Captain America. There was just no room for him.

 

Stomach rumbling, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. _Pancakes would be good right now_ , he thought, trying to remember if there was enough flour left to make a big batch.

He encountered you in the kitchen, finding you slumped with your head on the counter holding a glass of orange juice. He could hear you breathing deeply, and reached out to gently wake you up.

“Y/N?”

All of a sudden, you started, thrashing out with your arm and almost winding him in the stomach.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” He said, gently gripping your arm.

You relaxed, sighing. “I’m sorry, Steve -”

“No, it’s okay. Old habits die hard, right?”

You smile. “Yeah, but that’s not an excuse for hitting you.”

“Well, I guess you could make it up to me by helping me with breakfast.” He said. “Pancakes ok?”

You nodded excitedly, a delighted smile spreading over your face. “That sounds swell.”

Whilst he got out a mixing bowl, you hunted in the fridge for milk and eggs. You added them to the bowl with flour and oil, and began to whisk.

“What d’you think?” He said, holding up maple syrup in one hand, and whipped cream in the other.

“Maple syrup is good. Maple and cream, though…” you mused.

“And blueberries.” He added.

You raised your eyebrows. “A risky move, but it could work.”

He shrugged. “Ain’t no harm in trying.”

Once the batter was ready, and you had set up the kitchen counter with plates, forks, all kinds of toppings, Steve chivalrously allowed you the first pancake. He insisted on making it for you, claiming not so modestly that no one could flip a pancake as well as he could.

You sat back and watched, barely able to contain your laughter when it slipped right out of the pan and landed on the floor. Steve just stood there looking betrayed for a few seconds before picking it up with a spatula. “How ‘bout we make this one mine?”

You just laughed, grabbing him a plate. He took it, looking at the pancake doubtfully before grabbing the syrup and helping himself to double portions of the blueberries and cream Glancing back at him, shovelling forkfuls of pancake into his mouth, you grinned.

“How does it taste?”

“Not bad, considering we pretty much bypassed the five second rule when it fell on the floor.”

You turned back around, taking a clean spatula and flipping the pancake so that the golden brown side was face-up. You were quite proud of your work - for once, you had managed to get it into the right shape.

“That’s pretty good.” You heard him murmur, suddenly right behind you, so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

“Uh-huh,” you managed to say, your voice breaking slightly. Just as you turned your head, meeting his eyes slowly, Tony sauntered into the room, inhaling loudly.

“Hmm, do I smell pancakes?”

Steve stepped away from you, clearing his throat. “Look who decided to make an appearance.”

Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not just me, Banner’s managed to drag himself into the shower. Now that I mention it, I think Widow may have also gone for a shower.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony’s antics.

“Can I interest you in some breakfast?” You offered, holding up the pan.

“Hmm. Got any bacon?”

“No, but we have pancakes…”

He shook his head and gestured to his stomach. “Diet.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And bacon is the way to do that…?”

Tony chose to ignore your comment, kissing Pepper as she came into the kitchen, looking somehow bright and well-presented for such an hour. You fiddled with the sleeve of your grey uni sweater, beginning to feel a bit self-conscious among the growing number of people, as Bruce and Clint also emerged, scrubbing tired faces with fumbling hands.

You switched your attention to your pancake, which was looking slightly less golden-brown and slightly more singed. You half-halfheartedly decorated it with maple syrup, deciding to skip the whipped cream and just go with a few blueberries. As you ate, you quietly reflected that it could have done with some bacon.

 

After breakfast, Tony suggested that you all went out to the tennis courts and played doubles. On the way there, though, he and Pepper seemed to get sidetracked and disappeared into the gardens and didn’t emerge for quite a while after that.

Natasha and Clint played Sam and Rhodey, and you played Steve, seeing as your opponents had vanished. The only problem was that you were crap at tennis, and Steve could probably put [insert famous tennis player’s name here, you had no idea] to shame if he really wanted.

He handed you a racket which you accepted, apprehensively. This was a man who was already aware that you couldn’t map-read, couldn’t walk up a few flights of stairs without turning into a panting water buffalo and liked your pancakes well done. What he was about to learn was that you had not the first clue about playing and had avoided tennis in your gym class like the plague.

You shuffled into what you hoped looked like a tennis stance, and got ready to receive his serve. The ball came flying at you. You did your best to aim for it, and suddenly felt contact between the ball and the racket.

Feeling relieved, you watched as the ball sailed over the net. _That wasn’t so terrible_ , you thought. _Now all I have to do is keep that up for the next hour or so._ What you weren’t aware of was that while you were rejoicing over your miraculous receive of his serve, he had already hit the ball back to you.

It thumped straight into the side of your head with surprising force.

Before you could even think to pick it up, Steve was apologising. “Sorry, are you okay?”

Something inside you yelled at you to actually say something, before he presumed you had become mute from embarrassment.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You said, leaping into action.

You threw the ball haphazardly into the air, the way you’d seen tennis players do it on TV, and served the ball with little accuracy, flying to the left of Steve, who couldn’t quite manage to leap that far in order to hit it.

“Sorry,” you said weakly, praying that he wouldn’t put two and two together and realise how terrible you were at this.

He picked up the ball, and grinned at you in a way that told you he knew exactly what was on his mind.

It seemed your prayers hadn’t been answered.

“Okay, okay, I’m not great at this,” you admitted before he could say anything. “I can play someone else, if you want.”

Glancing over at the fast-paced doubles game going on in the other court, seeing Natasha actually hit the ball from behind, serving it to Sam, who jumped at least a metre into the air to hit it back, you sighed. _Damn Avengers_ , you thought.

Steve waved his hand dismissively. “So what? You’re pants at tennis. We’re going to get you better, you’ll see.”

“I seriously doubt that.” You muttered.

He held up his racket. “Why don’t we work on serving? You throw it up in the air and hit it like you just did, but try and aim forward this time.”

You nodded, doing as he said, and pretty much the same thing happening again.

“That’s okay, just try again.” He reassured you.

Bending over, you retrieved the ball, trying your best to focus and aim for Steve. It was a little more accurate this time, but still left much to be desired. Biting your lip, you held the racket in what wasn’t a steady hand.

“Into the square, doll, serve into the square.” Steve gestured at the box by his feet.

You nodded and tried to hit the ball with more accuracy. You kept going, Steve constantly reassuring you that you were doing a lot better, even though you felt you were just getting progressively worse. The sun was glaring down at you both the whole time and the grunts and yells coming from the other court weren’t helping your self esteem. If there was one thing you were glad about, though, it was your outfit choice. The white playsuit allowed you to get a tan, and if you were in Italy, you had to make the best of it.

After trying and failing for what felt like the hundredth time, you suspected even the ever-patient Steve was starting to get buzzy.

“Aim for my head.” He said shortly, and you aimed as hard as you could at him. It bounced off his head and you apologised through giggles.

He chuckled. “Okay, when I said aim for my head I didn’t actually mean it.”

“Worked though, didn’t it?” You smirked.

That was the technique that you used from then on, using his head as a target. He didn’t mind the ball hitting him square in the forehead, or your triumphant yell when he was able to hit it back to you and get a rally going.

He didn’t mind the faces you made, or the way you huffed when you didn’t get it quite right. He smiled when you fell on your ass trying to receive the ball, and laughed when you claimed that you could definitely serve from your spot on the floor.

“There we go, doll.” Steve chuckled, hauling you up off the ground, two strong arms around your shoulders. “Up you get.”

Quickly, he realised how close you were, and couldn’t help but let this eyes wander straight into yours like they had that morning. Staring into them, he wondered absently if your eyes had always been that colour, and realised he’d never had the chance to notice.

“I-I think you’re getting a lot...a lot better at tennis.” Steve stumbled over his words, releasing you suddenly from what could only have been described as his embrace.

All you could do was nod dumbly and pick up your racket, avoiding eye contact and waiting for him to receive your serve. Soon, however, the awkwardness had been forgotten and you two were back to your old selves. You had decided not to think too much about that moment, because when you thought too much about things it led you down the wrong path.

 

You soon realised that the others had decided to call it a day long before you had noticed, and had left the tennis courts in search of a cold glass of lemonade. It was only the two of you, playing tennis badly amongst the tree-surrounded courts that didn’t really provide much shade but rather a nice breeze when the heat became too much. Before long, Steve suggested you call it even, despite there not having been a real game, more of a one-sided awful serve-off. You happily agreed and began to amble slowly back towards the house with him.

“I didn’t know you were so good at tennis.” You contemplated as you wandered past the yellow roses.

“We used to play at it sometimes, back when I was at training camp.” He replied. “I was better before the serum, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because after...y’know, I didn’t think that I needed to practice anymore. I just thought that whenever I picked up the racket I’d be as good as I was before. But everything needs a little practice.” He smiled.

“Anyway, we had to get rid of the rackets when people started runnin’ out of materials for things.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it sure did. But don’t beat yourself up about not being so great at tennis. It’s just one of those things that will come along the more you do.” He paused, eyes suddenly on your shoulders. “Hey, you’re a little sunburned.”

You sighed. “Yeah, I burn like a marshmallow.”

A hearty laughed released itself from his chest. “Oh, I see.”

You walked at the same pace the rest of the way, only once quickening when Steve saw a bumblebee heading straight towards him, and basically ran the rest of the way to the house. You, laughing, tried to keep up with him, only able to do so because he gripped your hand and dragged you along like he had done the day before in Verona.

 

That evening, Pepper looked in the fridge and saw that you were basically all out of milk and eggs (totally not your fault, the pancakes were worth it) and began to panic.

“I was going to make eggs for lunch tomorrow, and the store’s at least five miles from here.”

“I’ll run out.” Steve offered.

Pepper sighed with relief. “Oh, are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble, you are our guest after all - I’ll pay for gas, if you want -”

“No, that’s really okay. Anyone want to join me?”

The others all declined, well into their evening relaxation. Sam and Rhodey were playing video games on Tony’s console in the next room, from where anguished shouts could be heard. Bruce was reading on the terrace, and Clint was having the longest phone call you’d ever witnessed. No one knew where Tony was, but then, no one ever really seemed to.

“I’ll come, if you haven’t had enough of me.” You joked, hopping off the counter.

“Of course he hasn’t.” Pepper smiled. “You’re very welcome here, Y/N, for however long you want to stay.”

 

As you and Steve drove off in his car, you contemplated Pepper’s words. Aside from the revelation about S.H.I.E.L.D. and your initial nerves when you first came, everything was going well. Better than you had expected, actually, and that was why you were beginning to feel anxious. Things could never go too well before something bad happened - that was something you had always believed. You could never let yourself be completely happy, because you knew you were only going to end up disappointing yourself in the end.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You realised that you had been zoning out, and quickly apologised.

“Sorry, I’m just…” You trailed off, wondering if it would sound cringey.

“Go on.” He prompted.

“I’m having a really fun time, being here. I guess I’m just waiting for something bad to happen.”

He contemplated your words. “Yeah, I used to be like that. But you gotta let yourself slide, and enjoy the moment.”

You smiled slightly.

“What?” Steve turned to you, a curious look in his eyes.

“You always seem to have the right answer.”

“Who knows if it’s right? I’ve been around for a long time, and I’ve tried to do right by myself, and what I tried worked, in a way.” He sighed, adding, “not in some cases.”

You saw him white-knuckle the steering wheel, and your brow furrowed in confusion. He couldn’t have made many mistakes in life - he was the kindest, most generous guy you could think of, and those were two things that good people seemed to be good at. But every good person needed someone to be behind them, to support them when...

 _Peggy_ , you thought, mentally kicking yourself. 

Steve glanced at you and saw that you understood his meaning.

“I waited too long for her, and whilst what we had was…” a nostalgic smile flashed across his face as he reminisced, “I didn’t...I messed around, and I didn’t appreciate her until it was almost too late.”

You knew you would never fully understand what it was like to fall in love with someone and be torn away from them, and thrust into a new, cold world where they weren’t the same, and nothing was familiar. Steve’s tight grip on the steering wheel seemed to relinquish, and he sighed.

“Just don’t wait for happiness. Take it, whilst it’s still there. Trust me on that one.”

 

The sun was long gone when you reached the store, vanishing behind the hills and leaving you in a blue, ethereal twilight that you knew only existed in Italy.

The storefront was piled high with a display of tinned sun dried tomatoes which you picked your way around, desperate not to knock anything over. Steve went ahead for the milk whilst you hunted for the eggs and some pasta which Bruce had requested, determined to make you all what he claimed to be his best continental dish.

The problem was that this was Italy, and there wasn’t just one type of pasta, which flummoxed you. You scanned the bags in front of you. _Campanelle, gnocchi, bucatini._..you picked up one which you recognised the name of and hoped for the best.

“Hey, Y/N.” Steve said from behind you. “I found these. Nat had a bag back at the house and she was raving at me to get some more.”

“Pan di stelle.” You read. “Sure, let’s get some.”

After you were sure you had everything, you tried to pay, but Steve, ever the gentleman, wasn’t having any of it, not even when you told him about how expensive gas was in Italy. (You really had no idea, but already felt bad enough about all the favours he had done for you). Steve handed you the keys and went to the backseat to load in the groceries - let’s just say, you ended up buying more snacks than you had initially planned.

You went to unlock the car door, but then heard a voice that made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Y/N...it’s been a while.”

You turned around only to come face to face with Nancy Trigeur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....yup, another cliffhanger!  
> I understand that it may not be that intense seeing as we don't know much about Nancy Trigeur. She's an OC, and whilst I know that those can be annoying I'll try my best to slot her into the existing universe. So, the plot thickens yet again!   
> Thank you as always to all the lovely people who commented on the previous chapter. I love seeing that you guys are enjoying this and don't ever hesitate to pop me a line! I'd love to hear what you think.   
> Stay tuned for chapter nine...more mystery and definitely more Steve x reader! ;)


	9. A Harley In the Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a run-in with your old colleague, which brings back memories you'd prefer to bury.   
> (Just a little warning - if you're triggered by brief mentions of suicide/guns, please skip this chapter. It's very mild and nothing to do with the main characters, but please do keep yourselves safe).

It was just like a scene from a movie - half of her face was illuminated by the yellow street light, and the other half was lit up by the effervescence of the moon, which had just seemed to emerge purely for her entrance.

Steve had never seen this woman before, but that wasn’t what mattered at that moment. He glanced at you, seeing your demeanour completely shift from cheerful to something else entirely - something that made your breath grow shallow and your hands begin to shake.

“A-agent.” Your voice trembled.

The woman removed her motorcycle helmet from her head, and it was only at that moment that Steve saw the Harley parked a few yards behind her.

“I thought we were on closer terms than that.” The woman shrugged, tucking the helmet under her arm. “But then, I haven’t seen you since last year.”

“What...what are you doing here?”

“I was weeding out the HYDRA agents in S.H.I.E.L.D. before, but then they sent me here. I’d love to tell you the rest, but you’re not...y’know, strictly speaking, qualified…”

The woman flicked her hair behind her shoulder, her eyes widening slightly as she spoke. “I sure am sorry to hear about what they said about you. It’s a real shame that they got everyone to believe it, too.”

Your mouth opened and closed in disbelief. “You...knew?”

“Course I did, honey.” She said, patronisingly. “I woulda done something about it, too, but duty calls, I guess.”

“You’re back in New York.” Was all you managed to say.

The woman laughed, a harsh sound that left you with a weird sense in your stomach. “I knew you’d figure it out. My accent’s got a lot stronger since I’ve been back.”

She turned her attention to Steve. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Steve held his hand out for her to shake, but she ignored him, turning back to face you. “I gotta run. But now that I know you’re here, we should get together sometime. We had real fun on that last mission, before you quit. Wasn’t it swell? I mean, it wasn’t so fun when we had to get that guys body out of the water-” she broke into giggles at that, “-but you shoulda seen the look on your face.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared mutely at her. 

She shrugged again, waving a leather-gloved hand. “Ciao.” The woman sauntered into the store, not once looking back.

When you were sure she was gone, you exhaled shakily, leaning back against the door of the car and hiding your face in your hands. What was happening to you? 

“Hey, hey...” And then his warm hands were on the tops of your arms, coaxing you out of your defensive position. “Are you okay? What just happened?”

You didn’t move your hands away from your face. “That...that was Nancy. Nancy Trigeur. She was one of the agents I used to work with.”

He gently clasped your wrists in each of his hands, and took them away from your face. You weren’t crying - you hadn’t been able to cry for weeks - but your eyes were glassy with a look that Steve recognised. It was the look of a haunting memory, brought back to life.

“I...I haven’t seen her in ages, and it just brought back memories of what happened...the last time I saw here.” Your voice cracked at the end, and your fingers reached up to the pendant at your neck, circling it, trying to calm yourself down.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“You can tell me anything, doll, and I’ll hear you out.” He reminded you.

You nodded, and got into the car.

 

When you got back to the house, you made your excuses and went to bed, much to the bewilderment of Nat and the others, who had promised a movie night when you returned You were going to binge-watch all the Star Wars movies, right from the prequels - you, Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, Sam, Clint and Bruce. (Sam most likely running a sarcastic commentary throughout the whole thing, but that was just the norm). Tony and Pepper were going to say they hated Star Wars, but end up watching it anyway. Just like it had always been.

“Sorry, guys, I just…” you swallowed, smiling. “I’m getting a headache - I think it was from the sun this morning, y’know…”

Clint nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, must be a bit of heatstroke.”

“Yeah, go and lie down, honey, you’ll feel better soon.” Pepper advised.

You were just so shaken up after seeing Nancy, and you didn’t even know why...sure, she could be a little condescending sometimes, but she was, overall, a nice person. At least, she had been, as far as you knew.

 _But she could have done something about the lie they told. She could have told everyone it wasn’t true, that you didn’t disobey orders_ …

…. _but she was just trying to save her career, wasn’t she?_

You discarded the clothes and put on your pyjamas, heading to the bathroom to clean your teeth. They felt so dirty after everything you had eaten that day...you cleaned them for two minutes, but the unwashed feeling was still there, so you went again. And again. And again, until your gums were bleeding and your tongue was raw. Your hand shook so much that your toothbrush fell out of it and clattered into the sink, the noise startling you and making you feel like crying. But there was just nothing. You tried to squeeze some tears out, but there were just dry sobs caused by the deep, unkempt anguish you felt inside you.

Exhausted, you clambered into bed, your gums feeling inflamed and the taste of blood still metallic in your mouth. Your aching eyes closed, and you fell into an uncomfortable state of sleep, filled with nothing but emptiness.

 

Nat and the others had long since gone to bed, only managing to make it to the beginning of _Revenge of the Sith,_ as Steve sat alone in the living room with the TV still on. (Bruce had been nodding off halfway through the _Phantom Menace_ and was dead to the world by the beginning of the second film - Natasha had managed to rouse him to offer him a coffee to help stay awake, but even she wasn’t sustained by the caffeine).

Steve hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what had happened. About the mysterious appearance of Nancy Trigeur, and how it had affected you. He had never seen you so shaken up before, and knew that whatever had made you quit must have been bad.

Sighing heavily, Steve lifted the bowl of popcorn from his lap and set it on the table, making a move to get up from the couch. Hearing movement, he glanced up.

You stood in the doorway to the living room, in your grey uni jumper and pajama shorts, eyes red rimmed as if you had been crying.

“Y/N?” He said, his eyes going big with concern. You lingered in the doorway, your voice quivering as you spoke.

“You said that if...if I wanted to tell you anything, that you’d hear me out.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He said. “And get out of that goddamn doorway before you get cemented there.”

A small smile stretched its way across your mouth at his joke.

“That's better.” He smiled.

You sat tentatively next to him, looking extremely unsure of what you were about to say. You had never really opened up to anyone like this before, and suddenly you felt like not bothering, just keeping it to yourself…

“I d-don’t know how to -” you began, before he clasped your trembling hands in his for comfort.

“Y/N, I won’t judge you on any of what you say,” he said, “but you have to tell me.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath, and told him everything - how you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. on a whim, and how the job became a disastrous mess of overworking and isolating yourself from everyone. He listened patiently the whole time, like a friend - you had often wondered what that would feel like.

And it felt good, knowing that someone actually wanted to help. “I remember this one operation I went on, with the woman from before, Nancy, and some other people. I was only just 21, and it was too soon. We went to Puerto Rico. We had to infiltrate this strip club - there was a man there who we had spent months tracking. It was only meant to be a quick in and out operation, but before we could get him, he...he shot himself.”

Steve’s clasp on your hand tightened.

“There was nothing we could do. Nancy said he was there with this other associate, this younger guy, but we couldn’t find him. When we did, we found his body in the water on the beach - he had been suffocated, and then thrown in to hide the evidence. I…” you struggled for words, the memory of that night still so vivid in your mind - like you would never be able to forget it, like it would be there, haunting you, until your dying breath.

You went on, knowing that if you stopped talking too much then it would overwhelm you again.

“I had to quit, after that. I left, but it still feels like I’m there. It still feels like I’m worried, and stressed, all the time and there’s nothing I can do -”

“I know what it’s like to feel lost.” He said, softly. “And hopeless...and everything else.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Your said quietly.

“First thing you gotta do is stop pretending to be okay when you’re not.” He advised, still holding your hand. You were more grateful than he knew for the comfort. “Have you seen a therapist at all?”

You crossed your arms around yourself. “I..haven’t. I’m not really in the, uh-the financial position to, y’know-”

He nodded. “Well, you can always talk to Sam. He knows about this stuff, Y/N, and he would be willing to have a chat about it, if you felt comfortable to. And you can talk to me, too - I know I’m not an expert, but I’m always here if you need me.”

A small smile appeared on your face. “Thank you, Steve. I mean it.”

"Anytime." He smiled at you in that surefire way, and some of the tension that you had been holding onto slipped away. 

 

Steve checked the time. It was getting close to 3am, and you had been watching Star Wars for god knew how long. He had put it back on, thinking that you could do with a distraction. You had agreed in that somewhat hesitant way of yours, but soon you were humming along to the theme tune and laughing at his comments about all the creatures on screen. 

"Never had anything like it, back when I was a kid." He remarked. "And when I came out of the ice people kept tellin' me to watch Star Trek."

You tilted your head, curious as to his opinion. 

"Oh, this wins. By far." 

You laughed, happy enough to let him talk the whole time. You felt exhausted, but you didn't want to go back to sleep, where nightmares and emptiness were waiting for you. You just wanted to be here forever, in a place where your treacherous mind couldn't get you. 

 

 

A few miles away, a woman came to a stop on a vintage Harley outside a derelict house.

A shot resounded in the still, night air. For a moment, even the crickets stopped chirping.

The woman mounted the motorcycle and sped away into the darkness, as if she had never been there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! (that's not the last we'll be seeing of Nancy.) Thanks a million to the people who left lovely comments on the last chapter.   
> I just want to take this opportunity to mention that if any of you are struggling, please reach out. I promise you that someone will want to help, even if it's just for a chat, you might feel better for it. I wish you the best of luck.   
> p.s. sorry I'm not a trekkie. Star Wars for the win, thank you very much ;)


	10. Under the Oak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you take an unwanted phone call from your mother, find out some unsettling information about Nancy Trigeur, and take a walk with Steve.

You were awoken that morning by the sudden and very unwelcome vibration of your phone.

Baffled, you reached for it, finding it slipped between the sofa cushions. It was your mother calling you, and it was five a.m. You weren’t sure which fact you hated more.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Y/N.” The reception was bad, making her voice hard to hear, for which you were grateful. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up for a coffee tomorrow in...where is it you live?”

“Vancouver.” You said through gritted teeth, getting up from the couch.

“Right. I wanted to see you, and talk about...stuff.” Your mother never said “stuff” which was a clear sign that whatever she wanted to say to you couldn’t be good news.

“Or you could just ring me, like you are now.” She made an exasperated noise.

“I just want to see you in person. Your voice is...muffled, are you in some other place?”

“I’m in Italy.” You replied.

“Why’s that?”

“A friend’s birthday. He flew me out.”

“You didn’t tell me about this.”

“You didn’t say you wanted to see me. You haven’t said anything for three months.”

“Not completely unlike what you did.” She mumbled.

You sighed, already growing frustrated with the conversation. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything -”

“I barely know anything about you, now, Y/N - are you working at the coffee shop, still, have you finished your degree, are you -”

“I still work at the coffee shop, I finished my degree, and no, I’m not seeing anyone.” You grumbled.

“How did you know I was going to ask that?”

“Because you’re unbelievably predictable.” You snapped.

“It’s a shame, because I met someone the other day I know you’d like - a Laurence Chaisty, nice man-worked for a government corporation before moving here -”

You didn’t know how much more of this you could handle.

“Please don’t set me up with anyone.” You said. “I don’t expect to be back for at least a few more days, and when I do, I’m going to be working extra to cover for the days I missed, if they’ll still employ me, so I won’t be able to see you. Sorry. Bye.”

“But, Y/N -”

You pressed hang up before she could say anything else, and let out a huge sigh. A few hours later, you’d feel bad about hanging up on her like that, but for now the relief outweighed the guilt.

“That didn’t sound like fun.” You turned, Steve coming out of the kitchen, kettle in hand. When he wasn’t there when you woke up, you had suspected he had stolen away for a morning run, seeing as the sun was pretty much up, but still wore his pajamas and a worn-out look on his face. 

“You want coffee?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” You declined. “And that was my mother.”

Steve disappeared into the kitchen to pour his coffee. “I guess you’re not on great terms with her, then.”

You followed him in, searching the cupboards for something to eat. “We’re not-we haven’t really...spoken, in a while.”

He glanced at you, half-smiling. “It did sound pretty...frustrated, on your end.”

You smiled. “You’d get frustrated if you spent more than a minute on the phone with my mom. She…” you hesitated, wondering if this was something you should share with Steve. He said you could tell him anything, but you didn't want to rant. Not at this time of the morning. Not to him, he didn’t need it. He was looking especially worn out, and not as jovial as usual. Then again, it was five in the morning. 

“She asked you if you were seeing anyone?”

You nodded. “Yeah, classic mom talk. I never am seeing anyone when she asks.”

“I don’t get that.” Steve mumbled. “I mean….”

You tilted your head. “What?”

“You’re smart, and kinda funny...in a sarcastic way.”

You laughed. “Thanks, I guess. I’m just not...not in the mental state to have any of that going on, I’m pretty unstable, so it would be a lot for someone to take on even if they wanted to -”

“You’re not unstable.” He said.

You smiled, a little sadly. “Yeah, you’d be surprised. I just mean that it’s unfair to expect a boyfriend to deal with all that. So I don’t.”

A curious look found its way into Steve’s eyes, lighting them up. “I think it would be his privilege, whoever the lucky fella would be.”

You laughed, helping yourself to some cereal.

He smirked. “Anyone in the running?”

“My mom did mention someone, but that’s just another reason for me to avoid the Seattle area for another couple of months. He’s probably some arrogant wet cloth who works in technology and earns more money than they’re worth. Those are the types my mom usually wants me to get with.”

“That’s bullshit.” Steve agreed, sipping his coffee.

“Yeah, I know.” A sly smile came onto your face. “But, y’know...if Tinder doesn’t work out, I could always put my mom’s matchmaking skills to use - I’m sure she’d love a project…”

“I’m not gonna ask your mom to set me up with someone.” Steve smirked. “And you know I don’t use Tinder. I wouldn’t even know _how_ -”

“God, I hope you never do find out.” Steve punched you playfully on the shoulder, and dug his spoon into your cereal.

“Hey!” You protested. “Get your own!”

He ignored you and continued to eat your cereal, and you soon gave up.

Something about this morning felt good, unlike the less-than-good events of yesterday. Little did you know, that feeling wouldn't last for very long. 

 

You tried to find Tony later on, and after looking in the study and numerous other places (you were still being surprised at how big this house actually was) you located him in the garage, wiping a speck of dust off the latest Jaguar.

“Tony?”

He turned, recognising your voice. “Y/N. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you knew anything about…” you faltered, hating how you were always nervous to ask people for help. “The current situation with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Tony nodded, taking off his orange-tinted sunglasses and polishing them with the sleeve of his designer jacket. “I’ve been in contact with Fury. He’s in a crisis. Whatever field agents they had left have vanished from the scene, including your old pal Trigeur.”

Your face creased into a frown. “That can’t be right.”

He shrugged. “Swear on it.”

“No, I mean I saw her yesterday evening.” You said. “Steve and I left to go to the store, and I ran into her in the car park. Said she was weeding out the HYDRA agents still left in S.H.I.E.L.D. That they sent here here.”

Tony stared at you for a moment.

“Shit.” He muttered, under his breath.

“What?”

He pulled out his mobile phone, which was something you rarely saw him do, and began walking at a fast pace out of the garage.

You rushed to keep up with him. “What? What is it?”

Tony stopped, and grabbed you by the shoulders. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure that it was her?”

“I would recognise her anywhere.”

Tony cursed again.

“Tony, what’s-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Steve appeared from around the corner. “Tony, I need to borrow the Camaro again -”

He stopped, mid-sentence, as soon as he saw both of your expressions, and his eyes grew wide with concern. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

Tony patted you on the shoulder, ignoring him. “Y/N, there’s some business I need to take care of, or...get other people to take care of.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “Stark, what’s going on-”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Calm down, _el capitan_ , it’s being taken care of.” He turned to you. “Did she say where she was going?”

“No,” you began, “but Tony, I don’t get it. She said she had moved back to New York, but she’d been sent here by S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Fury said the last time he heard from her, she was in eastern Europe.”

“So she’s lying. Agents do that, for their own safety -”

“He said she was volatile.”

You considered this. “Well, yeah, but it’s just an act-”

“Listen. An old man was shot dead at his house in the early hours of this morning. They found an oil slick on the ground from a small vehicle, but this man didn’t have a car. No neighbours. Despite that, they think it was suicide.” Tony said. “But you and I know better, Y/N.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You think it was her?”

He shrugged. “You know her better than any of us, Y/N.”

You were starting to think you didn’t know her at all.

 

He had noticed, as soon as he ran into you and Tony at the garage, that you were looking tense again.

Your face was clouded with confusion and he felt something in him desperate to take that worried look from your eyes. As you were walking back towards the house, he suddenly was struck with an idea.

He grabbed your hand, and you turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Steve, what are you-”

"Come on." He led you off the path and into the thicket of trees, towering over you and sheltering you from the sun.

Eventually, the trees thinned out to reveal the lake, in all its shining glory, spread out before you like a map. The arboretum was on the other side, and you could just see a wooden swing hanging from a tree, swaying in the breeze. It was like an impressionist painting, something worth thousands of dollars, something that would be hung up in a museum yet someone like you was lucky enough to be in it.

All thoughts of Nancy, S.H.I.E.L.D. and oil slicks drifted away from your thoughts.

“Not bad, huh?” Your eyes rested on Steve, squinting in the bright daylight, his white t-shirt almost blinding you with the reflection of the sun.

Something seemed to quiver and break inside you, filling your chest with a light feeling - so light, almost as if you could float away.

“Uh, I...um-” you scrambled for a reply, disarmed by this strange new feeling.

“Cat got your tongue?” Steve teased, before taking your hand in his again.

 _Certainly seems like it,_ you thought.

 

It began to rain when you reached the other side, clouds appearing in the sky out of nowhere and unleashing their temper on your heads. You dashed for cover, beyond thankful for the vast arboretum where you could take shelter under the trees. You discovered an old oak tree, with a bench underneath it where you could wait for the spell to pass.

The feeling came on again, making you feel lightheaded as he looked at you with interest.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I don’t know. I…” he tailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

You decided not to press it, staring out from underneath the trees at the rain lashing against the ground. It didn’t seem like a fleeting summer rain, it felt like an actual storm.

A rumble sounded in the distance. Sure enough, there was the thunder.

“You’re gonna be okay, Y/N.”

You turned, surprised at his words.

“It may not feel like it right now, but...speaking from personal experience, things get better.”

Your brow creased slightly. “What...what do you mean by personal experience?”

He swallowed visibly, and all of a sudden, it was like the Captain Rogers side of him, the cheerful, assured demeanour and the broad, confident way he smiled melted away. Steve sat next to you, the surety gone from his troubled face. The haunted shadow of years of torment made him almost fold into himself, something you recognised as a defensive stance, because you did it so often yourself.

“I’m not..” he picked his way through his words carefully. “I’m not as honest as I could hope to be. Not with the people who deserve it.”

He regarded you, then, with a gentle, vulnerable look in his eyes. “You deserve my honesty. You deserve the righteous Captain Rogers, to be there for you, but I can’t do that knowing that I’m not being true with you.”

“You don’t have to do anything more for me, Steve, you don’t have to tell me anything, you don’t-”

Reaching for your hand, Steve quieted you. “I want to. I feel comfortable with you.”

Your heart leapt, understanding what a great privilege that was. That someone felt relaxed enough to share with you their other side. That they weren’t perturbed by the anxiety, the weakness that you wish you didn’t have.

“I felt - feel so lost.” He said quietly. You could barely hear his voice over the pounding of the rain. “Sometimes, when the world needs Captain America, I wonder if they’ll only ever have room for him, the dancing monkey. The mask, the shield, the “captain.” There’s no room for Steve.

“I came all that way, thought I had everything I wanted, and…” he shook his head. “I can’t be the monkey all the time. I don’t know how to be what people want, I don’t…”

He sighed, and you reached out, wrapping your arm around his muscular shoulders. It didn't reach all the way around, but you felt him relax slightly. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say, is that...I want you to know that underneath it all I’m just Steve. I don’t know if it’s enough, or if …”

“You’re enough.” You smiled, adding, “Steve.”

He smiled back, tentatively, not like you had ever seen him smile before. You found you liked it better than any way he’d ever smile before.

Steve rested his head on your shoulder, and you just listened to the rain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone. This chapter was pretty hard to write, especially the end part, because I wanted to get Steve's character spot on - I hope I did that, and that you enjoyed this instalment. Thank you for reading, as always.  
> The last two chapters have been pretty intense so I'm thinking I might lighten it up next chapter - maybe the gang will take another road trip, perhaps to the beach?? Let me know your thoughts!  
> stay tuned :)


	11. Monopoly and Birthday Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have an interesting conversation with Natasha and play a game of Monopoly with the team.

It turned out that the plans for a breach trip were thwarted by the sudden arrival of a storm that continued even after you and Steve were rescued by Rhodey speeding in on a golf buggy (you weren’t even sure where he got it, but you were thankful for the sudden deus ex machina). Bruce claimed that they were common when the climate was this hot, and that it would pass in a day or so - there would just be a lot of rain.

This was met with a certain, widespread mood of dejectedness among the whole group, especially from Clint, who muttered that he had not yet had a chance to properly practice on the archery range, or, (as he added in a lower voice) get a suntan.

It didn't matter to you, though, as you enjoyed listening to the sound of the rain pattering on the roof (it soothed your nerves, and let's face it, you had a lot of them) whilst you baked in the kitchen with Nat.

Well, you didn't so much bake as sort of watch and help whenever you could as she tackled the daunting task of Tony's birthday cake. He had been given one at the party - a masterpiece of three-tiered chocolate goodness - but everyone seemed to forget about it when he accidentally launched one of the Iron Man suit arms into it whilst trying to blast fireworks.

No one really knew where he was at that moment - ever since you had that conversation in the garage, he had only been seen in odd places talking in hushed tones on the phone, or in his study, which Pepper told you all was something he never did.

Any attempts at talking to him had been blocked by his AI assistant, and tension was starting to rise within the group, especially within you. You knew it had something to do with Nancy, but it was driving you crazy. It wasn't like she was an open book - Nancy had always been somewhat of a question mark - but you had always thought you knew her. She was always your superior, immensely talented agent, from whom you hoped to hone your skills - before the mission that caused you to have a breakdown and quit the job.

You thought you had left behind everything from that life - all the people, all the memories. But they just came flooding back as soon as you saw her face. Now she was here to cause even more trouble, and you couldn't help blaming yourself - somehow, you felt responsible for this, for bringing this upon everyone - it wasn't fair, after everything they've been through -

"Y/N? Quit having an existential crisis and come help me sort out this batter."

You jumped at the sound of Nat's voice and scrambled to help. As you helped her spoon batter into separate cake tins and mix in dyes (you really had no idea what this cake was going to be like, but you trusted her expertise) she started talking.

"So, you and Steve, huh?"

"What do you mean?" You said, oblivious to her implication.

Nat spooned some more batter into one of the tins. "It's nice that he finally found someone, you know, after Peggy."

You almost dropped your spatula of batter on the floor. "We- we're not-"

“You’re not what, exclusive yet?” “No, I...we’re not...like that.” You stumbled over your words.

Natasha ticked off something on a piece of paper, and put one of the cake tins into the oven, giving you a knowing look. Except that you didn’t understand what the “knowing” part of the look was for.

“Guess I misread.” She shrugged. “But for two friends you sure spend a lot of time together.”

Your face bloomed red. “We get along. As friends.”

She held up her hands defensively. “Okay, if you say so. I won’t say any more.”

You helped her load the rest of the cake tins into the oven, and started on the many types of icing.

Unsurprisingly, you didn’t think about cake for the rest of the morning.

 

Steve hadn’t always had a thing for board games, but he had to admit that since he arrived in the 21st century, they had improved a whole lot, considering all the mind-numbingly boring games of backgammon and drafts he used to play with his grandma when he was a kid. So when Sam produced the Monopoly board, he was more than happy to participate.

The only problem was that when they opened up the box and set up the board, they recognised barely any of the places and realised that they had the British version of Monopoly instead of the US one, which meant that the only people familiar with the setup were himself, Natasha and Bruce. That didn’t deter the other players from their determination to win, though.

Sam’s exact words were, “I’m gonna whoop your star spangled ass, Rogers.”

They decided that Bruce would be banker, seeing as he was the only one of them who didn’t have experience in scheming and manipulating for a living, and he gladly took it as a compliment. Soon, the board was set up and Nat rolled the dice. She landed on Whitechapel Road and put a two houses on it.

“Jeez, Nat, already trying to make everyone pay tax on your stuff?” Clint said.

She smirked. “No, I’m going to make _you_ pay tax on my stuff.”

Sure enough, when it was Clint’s turn, he landed on Whitechapel Road, muttering a string of curses as he paid a grinning Natasha.

The game continued in the same fashion, and everyone soon realised that Nat was the secret master of Monopoly, and soon had everyone paying up whenever they landed on one of her spots.

When it wasn’t his turn, Steve went into the kitchen that still smelled deliciously of freshly baked cake, and got everyone drinks.

As he was getting some beers out of the fridge, he thought about the day before, and how it had felt to open up to you. He wasn’t going to ignore the fact that you were clearly a very good listener and seemed to understand better than anyone how hard things could get. It struck him as unusual that you were so empathetic - most S.H.I.E.L.D. agents he knew seemed stoic and unforgiving, whereas you had always struck him as understanding and genuine. You reminded him of someone he knew once, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Roars of triumph and despair erupted from the living room, followed by your gentle laughter. He could imagine what your face looked like, your mouth stretched into a bright smile and your eyes shining like they always were when-

“Steve! Get back in here, it’s your go!”

Steve shook his head, picking up the bottles and trying to avoid thinking about whatever internal thoughts he had just been having about you.

When he got back into the living room, he found out that Clint was bankrupt, Sam had allegedly stolen money from Bruce and Natasha had just bought Mayfair, which was the most desirable district to have on the board, as it had the most substantial tax rate if you found yourself in the unfortunate position of landing on it.

Which Bruce proceeded to do, earning him a smirk from Nat.

Reluctantly, he handed over the fake money and she actually shot him a somewhat apologetic look, which was unheard of from her.

You weren’t doing so well, on the road to becoming bankrupt yourself. You had to sell, fast, because people weren’t landing on your properties, and you were nowhere near passing go to collect the $200. Steve was sitting next to you, and after he handed you a soda, he looked over at your money tucked underneath the table.

“Not doing so well, huh?” He murmured. “Maybe we could do some trading. Pentonville Road for Liverpool Station?”

You laughed. “But then you’d have all the reds.”

“And you’d be a quarter of the way to having all of the stations. Can’t beat that.”

Rolling your eyes at his ridiculous offer, you said, “How about you keep your train station and you give me Park Lane for Euston Road. Then you’d have all the oranges, and that’s basically the same thing as the reds.”

“No chance. I need to get Mayfair off of Nat, then I’d have both the blues.”

You snorted. “Yeah, like she’s going to give up Mayfair. Look how much money she’s getting from it.” You both looked as Sam forked over almost all his money to her.

“Okay, but-”

“What are you two girls whispering about?” Natasha said loudly, looking at you and Steve. Unconsciously, you shifted apart. You hadn’t even realised how close you had been when you were discussing the properties.

“N-nothing.” You said quickly.

“I bet.” Nat winked at you, and you felt a blush creep onto your face, which you were sure hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone, because everyone kept sneaking you interested looks for the rest of the game.

 

Unsurprisingly, Natasha ended up winning, and Steve coming in a close second. Sam was very put out, and very defensive about how everything had turned out. Clint, having gone bankrupt pretty early on, watched all of the antics with a “seen it all before” look on his face and you were just glad that you came in third at all. After that, everyone watched the tv whilst you and Natasha prepared Tony’s birthday cake.

Pepper managed to coax him out of the study, and when he finally emerged, you had somehow organised everyone to sit around the table in the conservatory where the rain was still tipping down onto the roof. Sam was so drunk he wore his party hat on his chin and Bruce was sitting by Natasha, head drooping towards her shoulder every two seconds. But despite everything, even the small panic you had when you thought you’d both overdone one of the cake tiers, you got Tony his birthday cake and everyone sang happy birthday (again) in a haphazard and extremely out of tune way. As everyone watched Tony shovel forkfuls of cake into his mouth and try to say “chubby bunny,” Steve leaned towards you and whispered softly in your ear.

“I’m really glad you stayed, Y/N.” You looked at him, and saw him smile in that tentative way you saw him do before, heart pounding.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, smiling again. Something inside you urged him to smile again, to never stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks for reading! hope you're having a great day so far. I wanted to make this chapter a little more lighthearted and hopefully I did that...comment what your favourite part was and let me know what you think! Thanks as always to people leaving kudos and commenting - you make my day :)


	12. Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a dream which causes him to question his feelings for you.

Steve turned over in his sleep, oblivious to the dark curtain of night swelling in the sky, the moon shining like a lantern on a stage - oblivious to the beautiful play that nature put on, because he was already lost in the fairy tale of his subconscious.

_He was sitting inside the Camaro. You were in the seat beside him, talking. The shape of your face and the line of your jaw was illuminated by the outside street light. It didn’t matter what you were saying, just as long as you kept talking, he knew he could hold on -_

_And then, a flash of white light and he was in Times Square for the very first time - surrounded by lights and noises and people - god, there were so many people - The light faded and you were standing in front of him, just you, everything else blurry - your own eyes were translucent yet burning with vivid colour._

_Just as you began to smile, you were hit by a Harley motorcycle. He opened his mouth to scream something, anything, but he was voiceless._

_He tried to run, but he felt as if he were wading through a heavy bog, and when he glanced back to see how far he came, he hadn’t moved at all. He grew more frantic, panting and trying to reach out to get to you -_

_You remained motionless on the floor, and he couldn’t move - Cars rushed past him, people kept walking as if nothing had happened_ -

He woke with a start, a tight ball of tension gripping his chest. For a moment, he existed in the horrifying reality of the nightmare, where you hadn’t got up. Where you didn’t smile at him, where you lay on the floor, not moving -

A shaky breath left him as he realised that it hadn’t been real.

And, not too long after that, he was bombarded with countless thoughts - you inhabited each one of them, your smile, your shining eyes. His mind was heavy with the thought of you, suddenly, all at once. His heart was alive, racing at too fast a pace for someone who made him realise who he was, and who he wanted.

Steve lay on his back, breathing heavily, barely able to process what had just happened.

 

Not too far away, you lay awake too, unnervingly awake for such an hour. It had not been a couple of hours since you had eventually fallen asleep, your head crammed full with worries.

You worried about Tony, and what was happening with Nancy. You worried about your future, your chances at working again - you worried if S.H.I.E.L.D. had impaired any possibilities of you getting your life together. You even worried about your family, your mother, but none of it was any surprise to you - your anxious brain often wouldn’t let you alone in these quiet hours where no one was there to keep you from falling.

What did surprise you, though, were your sudden...thoughts about Steve.

Thoughts. That was all they were, wasn’t it? Sure, there had been that instance by the lake where you initially suspected you had felt something, but you later dismissed that was nerves about everything that had taken place beforehand. It wasn’t uncommon for you to feel nervous - you rarely felt at peace.

But then you thought about when you were with him - the party, climbing the tower in Verona, playing tennis - and you didn’t remember feeling like that. No, you didn’t remember feeling anxious at all.

You shifted under the covers, struck by this sudden new realisation. There was something about him that calmed you, that made you feel safe, comforted. But underneath that feeling, there was something else, too.

There was...something that made your heart race as you thought about it, something that made your knees feel weak and your brain go fuzzy whenever you talked to him.

You turned over, burying your head into the soft pillows, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. Thoughts, they had nothing to do with feelings, or emotions. They had nothing to do with your heart racing - perhaps you just had a heart condition that happened to appear whenever he did.

 _Stop lying to yourself_ , something told you.

You didn’t know if you could.

 

You ate breakfast early, not because you wanted to, but because you were trying to avoid everyone else. After the Monopoly game and the conversation you had with Natasha, you knew she was definitely on to you...about what, you didn’t know, but it was better if she didn’t get any ideas. Or anyone else, for that matter. You had seen the looks they were giving you and Steve.

As soon as you had finished shovelling food down your throat, leaving you with an aching stomach, you went to find Tony. The first thing you had decided to do, before anything else, was sorting out the Nancy problem. If people were in danger because of her, you needed to do something about it.

Firmly, you knocked on Tony’s study door. The thought did cross your mind that he may not have been up, but when the door swung open, you knew that he was.

He wasn’t sitting at his desk, but standing on the balcony and staring into the distance. After a few minutes of no words from him, you cleared your throat.

“Um, Tony...could you stop brooding for a moment, and -”

“Y/N.” He turned. “There’s only one reason you could be up at this unforgivable time of morning.”

You shrugged. “So you’ve figured it out. Why didn’t you come and speak to me? Everyone’s been worried, and I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last night. It’s about Nancy, I wanted to know what’s going on with her. If you had any word from Fury.”

Tony tilted his head. “Aren’t there other things you should be worrying about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth where he stood. “I think you do. I think you know what - or who - I’m on about.”

You decided to pretend to be obtuse. “Honestly, Tony, you’re not making any sense. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about her whereabouts.”

“So you could go and find her yourself?”

You clammed up, unable to think of anything to say.

“Look, Y/N,” He sighed, the weight of sleepless nights and fraught days pressing down upon him, “she hasn’t gone anywhere. Fury’s had his people looking for her, and she hasn’t left the area. Whatever she wants is here. She could be on some spontaneous holiday for all we know.”

“Right, because you always shoot an old man when you’re on holiday.” You scoffed.

“When in Rome…” Tony began, punctuating his vague point with a characteristic shrug.

“She’s here because of HYDRA.” You said.

Tony sighed again. “Okay, she’s not on holiday. That much is obvious. But whether she’s here for HYDRA, or against them...that’s another question we need answered. And I don’t want you to go and find out for yourself, capeesh?”

“Tony, I wasn’t-”

He put his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “No, Y/N, I _know_ you. And I don’t want you to get involved. HYDRA, S.H.I.E.L.D., Nancy Trigeur - none of that’s your problem anymore.”

Slowly, you nodded. “I just don’t want her to put anyone in danger. You don’t need any of that.”

“Honey, that’s our job.” Tony chuckled. “Danger is part of the contract.”

He pressed a button on the desk and the door opened. “Now quit avoiding my guests and go have fun.” He looked at you and grinned. “With-”

“Tony, I beg you to shut up.”

He feigned hurt. “Ouch. I’ll say no more.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked out of the door, hearing it close softly behind you. The feeling of worry and uncertainty still remained on your chest, and you could only think of one person who could make it go away.

 

Since the rain stopped, you all decided to take a trip to the nearby city of Treviso, since none of you apart from Tony and Pepper had ever been there, and you only had this day and the next to make the most of the beautiful Italian setting.

Steve hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the dream all morning, and it was starting to worry him. He didn’t let it show - he kept a straight face in the driver’s seat, and on the outside it would only seem that he was paying close attention to the road. But on the inside, he was tearing himself apart knowing that you were sitting in the backseat, fixing your hair in a small compact mirror, unaware of the desperate thoughts racing through his mind.

It was as if someone had pulled back a curtain on a room that had long lain dark and dusty in an old house full of antiques. Light flooded in and disturbed the slow festering of the furnishings, but warmed the room as it hadn’t been for a long time.

 _You’re thinking in metaphors, now?_ A judgemental voice said inside his head. _You’re no poet, calm down_.

Maybe he was just being irrational - perhaps all the dream had just been a dream, and didn’t have to have any of this deep meaning to it. Maybe he had just read too much into it.

But then his eyes caught yours in the wing mirror, and you offered him a tentative smile, making his heart pound in his ears. He looked away, unable to understand why you made him feel like that.

Luckily for him, the lush green countryside rushed past and soon you reached Treviso, and he was able to put all of his focus into finding a place to park. However, he didn’t miss you sitting up in your seat, gazing attentively out of the window at the colourful buildings and canals, a fascinating smile lighting up your face - one that you often smiled when you didn’t know anyone could see it, unaffected and pure.

The sight left him even more confused than he had been before.

 

Your first stop was the Piazza dei Signori, the central square in Treviso.

You marvelled at how relaxed you were in a bustling city full of people. You weren’t completely without the usual underlying feeling of uncertainty - you knew you’d never be rid of that - but compared to when you visited Verona, you felt much more at peace.

Nat pointed out a sign on the corner of the square, and you both approached it to read about some of the history of Treviso and the Piazza dei Signori. It took its name from the palace of lords which faced it, the former seigniory of Treviso, and was open twenty-four hours. You imagined what it might look like at night - lit up by the warm lights from the food stands and restaurants, the cobblestones glittering with the luminescence of the moon. It probably looked like a dream.

Tony pointed out a spot for lunch, and when you arrived, he shook hands with the owner and exchanged a few words of seemingly perfect Italian. The man still continued to surprise you.

You had the best table they could provide and everyone agreed that the food was delicious. No one really talked during the main course, and you had no problem with that - you were too busy enjoying your panzanella, which had been recommended to you by the waiter.

When you were done, he took your plate and smiled at you. “You are...enjoying it?”

“Yeah, it was really good.” You replied shyly.

“The chef says that he is...wanting you - all of you - to have dessert on the house.” The waiter said, much to everyone’s delight.

“What would you recommend?” Sam asked.

“Oh, the tiramisu is to die for. I first had it here with Tony, and I’ve been meaning to come back ever since.” Pepper said.

“Yes, Treviso is said to be the birthplace of tiramisu.” Tony added. “That right, Stefano?”

Tony was on first name terms even with the waitstaff here? You were beginning to wonder if he had all of Treviso wrapped around his little finger.

The waiter nodded, pointing at a restaurant across the square. “Le Beccherie is said to be the...origin of tiramisu. Roberto Linguanotto, the owner’s father, claims to be the creator.”

“But we all know it was your father, Raffaele, who got there first.” Tony grinned at the water.

Stefano reddened. “Yes, there is that...to be said.”

“Stefano is modest, as always. We’ll have a round of tiramisu for everyone.” Tony announced, and the waiter nodded dutifully.

Soon enough, he brought out nine servings of the dessert, and everyone ate in rapturous silence.

“This is beyond good.” Rhodey said, and was met with a chorus of noises of agreement.

“You are liking it, signorina?” The waiter asked you, and, trying to hide your surprise at the personal address, you gave him your most appreciative smile. He smiled back, answering a question of Pepper’s, but keeping his eyes on you the whole time. When you were all finished, he took your plates. His hand brushed against your arm as he took yours, and you noticed a small, folded piece of paper land on your lap.

You carefully opened it up, so as not to let anyone see, and saw a string of digits written there. Quickly, you folded it up, and stuffed it into your bag before anyone became suspicious.

You didn’t miss the waiter’s meaningful smile he directed at you as he left the room.

 

As Pepper rambled on about all the things you could do in Treviso, Nat sidled up to you.

“That waiter was pretty hot. Stefano, right?” She chuckled. “I mean, you would know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She nudged you. “I saw him slip you his number.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“So…are you gonna call him?” You shrugged.

“I mean, I guess he was cute, in a way…”

“Understatement.” 

“...but I’m not really, y’know...I don’t think it would work.” You finished, hoping she would drop the subject before someone heard.

“Who’s talking about making it work? The way I see it, you call him, make it a holiday romance that’s over with by Saturday.” She suggested.

“I’m good, Nat, really. But you can have his number, if you want.” You smirked. She didn’t react in the way you thought she would - instead, she just glanced over at Bruce, in such a way that needed no explanation.

“Ah, you have your own tiramisu.” You smirked, earning you a throaty laugh at the lewd joke.

“Shut up, before I make you call that guy.” She warned.

 

Steve was worried.

He had seen that waiter guy give you his number, and he hadn’t wanted to believe it - maybe he had just dropped a bit of paper - but then he saw how he looked at you after that, and knew he was kidding himself. It wasn’t like he had any claim over you, any at all, but he couldn’t ignore how his blood ran cold when the waiter smiled at you, and gave you all that attention - and the way that you didn’t stop it, either.

He was worried, and agitated, and he didn’t even know why.

“You okay, pal?” Steve jumped when he heard Bruce’s voice next to him.

His voice was quiet, but somehow it echoed ominously in the huge cathedral. It was grand, and imposing, and not the sort of place to have a discussion about his unexplained, yet growing, jealousy over you.

“Yeah, I’m just a little full from lunch.” He said quickly, hoping that his feelings didn’t show on his face.

“You looked a little pissed off, back there.” Bruce said. “I know it’s none of my business, but…”

Steve sighed. He couldn’t just brush his friend off, and say it was nothing, because he knew how concerned he would get - and besides, he was right, wasn’t he?

“Is it a lady?” Bruce asked. “Lady stuff?”

He would’ve laughed at Bruce’s vernacular, but he just nodded.

Bruce followed his eye line to where you stood, admiring the decadent mural that was painted across the entirety of the ceiling. Your eyes were filled with this candid wonder that he couldn’t stop staring at.

“It _is_ her, right? Cause if I’m wrong, this could be a conversation I don’t want to have.” Bruce glanced doubtfully at the only other women in their group.

“No, you’re right.” Steve looked around for anyone who might be listening, but everyone else was engaged in the art. He spoke in hushed tones. “I had a dream about her last night.”

Bruce frowned. “What, _that_...kind of dream?”

“No!” Steve said, horrified. “God, no.”

“Then, what was it?”

“I was in New York, in Times Square, and she was standing in front of me. And it was just her...I couldn’t see anyone else. She was about to smile, ‘cause she had that look on her face.” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly at the memory. “Then this motorbike crashed into her, and she was on the floor, not moving. I couldn’t reach her. I couldn’t move, even though I wanted to.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “What happened then?”

“Nothing. I woke up.” Steve walked closer to Bruce, lowering his voice. “But lately, I’ve been...seeing her differently, I guess, and after the dream, I just can’t stop thinking about her.”

Bruce said nothing, unsure of what advice to give his friend. “I thought it was a crush, but then...adults don’t have crushes, do they?”

“Yeah, well, you’re not an adult. You’re an old man.” Bruce said.

“Exactly!” Steve ran his hands through his hair, exasperated. “That’s why I feel so bad about this...I mean, she’s young, a lot younger than me. And I never would go for someone that age.”

“Right.”

“But…” he gazed over at you as Nat whispered something in your ear, making you laugh softly. The sound made his heart race. “I don’t think I’ve felt like this, since…”

Bruce stared at him, suddenly realising who he was talking about. It had been a long time since he had fallen in love with Peggy, and no one had ever thought he would be able to get over it. Yet here he was, bashful like a teenager, staring at you like you were the only person in the room. Like you were the only work of art worth looking at.

“Steve, Steve.” Bruce stopped. “We all knew that it was going to be a long time before you found someone. And I gotta say, I didn’t know it would be her. But the way you just talked about her - the way you look at her - that’s not how you act around your crush, man.” Bruce shook his head. “You laugh around your crush, you get embarrassed. But it’s a fast thing, and it’s over pretty damn soon. This isn’t that. This is something more than that.”

He clapped him on the shoulder and walked on, leaving Steve standing in the middle of the cathedral, lost for words.

 

After seeing some more of the city’s famous sights - the fortifications, the canals that ran with azure water between the buildings - you headed home, your bag still feeling heavy with the weight of Stefano’s phone number. It was more than unusual for guys to give you their numbers - it never happened. Ever. It had left you confused and guilty, though you weren’t sure what you were guilty for.

It was early evening by the time you got home, and you decided to take a walk in the gardens to clear your head. It had been a busy day and you were left feeling more scattered than ever, desperate for some peace and quiet. You went through the rose gardens and to the arboretum, still teeming with life at this hour; the sound of the crickets and rustle of the soft, honeyed breeze was all you could hear, filling your head with a sweet sense of nostalgia.

It was here, after all, that you’d had one of your earlier conversations with Steve. You smiled as you recalled talking about your music tastes - how easy everything had been, for once, how at ease you had felt around him.

And now everything was messed up - you could tell that he knew about the number, from the way he’d been acting, and he probably thought you were going to call Stefano the first chance you had, and spend what was left of your holiday with him.

As if you ever would.

You wanted to make the most of the time you had left, with the people you had come to call your friends - and Steve.

Steve.

His name sent a wave of energy through you, a rush of adrenaline, leaving your heart pounding in your chest and your breath quickened. You just wanted to be around him. You didn’t want to be at odds, ever, least of all over some guy who meant nothing to you.

 _Why would he care, anyway?_ You thought. _Why would he care if you called him?_

You didn’t know what this was, this friendship between you - always seeming as if it verged on something more, in moments where your connection felt a little deeper, when you felt like you understood him - only for you to be hit with the crushing realisation that you were friends. You didn’t know why it made you feel so saddened, but it did.

You closed your eyes and breathed in the summer air, knowing that it was one of the last chances you would get. Tomorrow was Friday, and then after that, you knew you would be on the plane back to Vancouver. Back to a place that seemed now so separated from everything you came to realise you wanted. It was your home, but it seemed that now, more than ever, home was more of a feeling to you than a place.

You had come a long way, and you still had a way to go - you wanted to take Steve’s advice and talk to someone, maybe Sam, someone who could help you become more grounded on your own, without relying on anyone else. For the first time, you wanted to get better, not to be stuck in one place, and deep down you knew you owed it to Steve.

Which was why it would be even harder to leave, to leave this place that had done so much for you, and to leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry this chapter has been a little late. I wanted to get it just right, as it's so important to me that this story grows and progresses in a natural way. My favourite part to write was the conversation between bruce and steve - they definitely don't get enough screen time together!  
> Hope you enjoyed reading, and as always, thank you for leaving kudos, and don't hesitate to add your thoughts in the comments. What was your favourite part? :)


	13. The Last Supper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your feelings for Steve grow as you spend your last night in Italy.

The air was cool when you stepped outside, it felt like a morning kiss, fresh and taking you by surprise. 

It was early in the morning, even for an Italian summer; the sun was still lingering below the hills, as if tentative to come up and light the sky with a comforting warmth for the day. The grass was still damp with dew and you pulled on the sleeves of your uni sweater absently, a slight shiver running over you. 

It was unusual for you to be awake, let alone outside, at such an hour, yet you were determined to make the most of the last day of your holiday. 

Before long, you reached the lake, its waters sending a soft breeze brushing the hair from your face. You started walking around it toward the arboretum, letting your lungs fill with the morning air, your mind waking up. 

Wondering what you would do when you returned to Vancouver, wondering how long you would be at your dead-end coffee shop job that was barely paying the bills, wondering about your mother and your father and the rest of your family…

...wondering about Steve. 

In the silent moments, your thoughts always drifted to him. How he had softly whispered in your ear that night, telling you how glad he was that you’d stayed. How his arms felt around you as he helped you off the ground when you fell playing tennis. How sometimes you could feel his gaze on you, how he smiled when he thought no one was looking. 

How you felt when you were around him, how your heart raced - it was all feelings and emotions hitting you too soon, all at once, and you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t make sense of the tangled mess in your head, how you truly felt about him, or what you were going to do when you left. 

Were you going to see him again? Something inside you hoped you were. 

You reached the edge of the lake, where the trees bent in the breeze, as if bowing to the lake - you looked around you as nature opened up, revealing itself to you, as if you were the only person in the world at that moment. 

 

Steve went on his runs in the morning. 

Before, it had been because he loved watching the sun rise before the day started. He loved being up just when the birds started chirping, before the world got out of bed and splashed cold water on its face. In those drowsy moments, where nature neither slept nor woke, he found solace in the fact that it was just him. 

That was before. 

Now, he ran to chase away the thoughts that plagued his mind - thoughts about you that no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t get out of his head, he couldn’t outrun. He ran in the early morning so that when he had breakfast, you wouldn’t be there - your eyes sleepy and your hair slightly mussed, like a vision in the kitchen that would taunt him for the rest of the day.

That was how you appeared to him that morning, your hair down in loose waves all over your shoulders, messy from sleep, your eyes red, as if you hadn’t slept, but dancing with the same childlike wonder he came to recognise, in moments where the world seemed to stop like it did now. 

He wondered if he was dreaming. That you had appeared to him like this, on the fringes of the lake in your university sweater, pajama bottoms and sliders, that he was still lying in his bed and you were just a figment of his imagination. That you were just too good to be true. 

But then you saw him, and stopped in your tracks, taken off guard. 

A small smile tugged at your lips, and he knew you were all too real. 

 

It was only going to be a small thing - dinner at a restaurant in the nearby town, just Tony and Pepper and the others, and you. No one was bothering to dress up, because for once, there were no strange guests, no billionaire friends, no irritating assistants. Penelope Devautour ended up flying back to the states the day after the party, to the collective relief of all of you. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror of your bedroom, noticing everything. 

The room behind you in the reflection of the glass was unbelievably neat. You had packed your case carefully, making sure to smooth out the creases in your clothes, and line up your shoes so that they were parallel. 

They weren’t quirks. God, they were never quirks, they had never been cute - they had caused you so much grief but you knew they were never going to go away. Maybe you could live with that. Maybe.

But everything else - loops, the social anxiety, the awkwardness - you felt some of it had drifted away, when you had found people you were somewhat comfortable with. When you were with people like that, you became a better version of yourself, someone  _ you  _ would want to be friends with. 

You were so scared that version of yourself was going to vanish when you went back home.

You ran a hand over your hair, and scanned your outfit - a burnt-red bardot sundress, something you had bought on a whim with the sunlit streets of a beautiful European country in mind. It had been more of a concept than a dress, and now that you were in Italy, it seemed that your wishful thinking had come true for once. 

You decided that whatever happened when you went back home, you had one night left to be the version of yourself that felt true. Nothing else mattered but enjoying yourself and spending time with your friends, and for that, you were thankful. 

 

The restaurant looked out over a limestone wall at an infinite view of hills and pastures and manicured hedges, and the light was already turning golden when you arrived. Bruce bought the others a round of Limoncello cocktails and you an Orangina (you were still sticking to the no alcohol rule, and it had served you well so far) and you took the table nearest to the low wall, with the best view. 

Wisteria and honeysuckle climbed up the cherry-wood panels above you, making Clint sneeze, and you all toasted to Tony and Pepper in thanks for inviting you for the week. 

“I think we can all say that this week has been...one of the better weeks, to say the least-” Bruce began, clearly uncomfortable at being the one to initiate the speech. “Not that the other weeks weren’t good, y’know, but-”

“-we’re grateful. That’s what you were trying to say, right?” Nat smiled at him helpfully, and he gave her a relieved glance. 

Tony grinned and opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but Pepper smiled back warmly and spoke before he could. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Rhodey nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a great time, guys. I think we can all take something away from it.” He glanced briefly at you, and you didn’t miss the implication, whatever it was.

Steve was nodding along, now desperately trying to pay attention to what was being said. It wasn’t like he wasn’t thankful, of course he was, but it was the way the golden light illuminated the shape of your face and your smile and your eyes - _ oh god,  _ your eyes - that had captured his attention. 

He was thankful when the waiter came around with the menus, so that he could tear his eyes away from you at last to study the words on the page. It was in vain, though, as they blurred in front of him, jarring his focus. 

“You okay, Steve?” Sam muttered from beside him as everyone conversed jovially. The sound of your laughter made him turn and see you, smiling at a joke Tony had made. 

“Steve?”

He spun back around. “What? Oh-yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Sam read the menu, taking a sip of his cocktail. “You just seem a little distracted, that’s all.”

_ Well, he’s not wrong,  _ Steve thought to himself. 

When he had seen you that morning, your silhouette illuminated by the early dawn light, he had been able to carry on running, hoping that you wouldn’t catch sight of him. No, he wasn’t proud of it - it was definitely unlike him to avoid anyone, let alone you - but at least he could pretend that you had caught him off guard, surprised him. 

But then you had appeared, as if out of nowhere, in the main hall of Tony’s house. 

It wasn’t even what you were wearing that made his eyes drift to you - it was a sundress that made you look like someone out of an old summer edition of Tatler magazine, like one of the beautiful girls who often appeared on the covers he used to see when he picked up the paper from the newsagent’s with Bucky for his paper round. You always had that old fashioned grace about you that drew you to him. But it was more than that. Your face wasn’t empty and emotionless like the girls on the magazine - it was glowing, somehow, with radiance he had seen only a few times from you, as if you were happy in your own skin. Your face was framed by your hair that spilled over your shoulders in glamourous, soft-looking curls, and when you smiled at him, it was as if the whole world had stopped. 

You smiled again now, widely, at him from across the table, as if he was the only one there. Suddenly, he wished that were true - that it was just the two of you again, with the hazy, painting-like landscape all around you. 

Steve sat through the whole dinner, trying to tear his eyes away from you. It was useless. He was seeing you everywhere, in his dreams, in his mind - he couldn’t even go for a run without thinking about you. 

_ What the hell happened to me?  _

The final course came and went, and no-one was making any move to go - in fact, they seemed to be ordering more drinks now that the meal was over than they had at the start. Steve sighed. All he wanted to do was go back, so that he might have a chance of talking to you on the walk home, before you left. 

He could’ve almost laughed at himself, at how desperate he seemed, waiting just so that he could get a moment alone with you, but more than anything, he wanted it. And he didn’t even know why. 

 

You were starting to become tired, after all the laughing and conversation you had engaged in, all the food and drink that you had consumed. It was a good tired, though - the kind you have after a long summer’s day, when your skin still feels sunkissed when you go to bed, and you slip into a state of drowsiness before you finally fall into a peaceful slumber. 

It was when you actually started to drift off during Tony’s Paris story that Nat had begged him to tell - everyone was falling over with laughter, and you felt your eyes begin to close. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Pepper whispered in your ear. 

You jolted, and sat up straight, rubbing your eyes. “Huh?”

She smiled. “You were falling asleep.”

You reddened. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry - I didn’t even know-” you glanced over at Tony to check if he had realised, and thankfully, he hadn’t. He was too into the part about an elderly French woman stealing his croissant. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it, honey.” She gave you a sympathetic look. “You look exhausted. Do you want me to take you back?”

_ Great, now you seem like a child. Why else would she be offering to take you back? _

“Oh, that’s okay-” you said, stifling a yawn. 

“But we’ve got you booked for a flight early tomorrow, and you should get as much rest as you can before you go- although, we can change it, if you want-”

“Oh, no, that’s fine.” You said quickly, already feeling bad enough about all the favours she’d done you. “I can stay, it’s-” you tried to hold in another big yawn, but it only made it worse. 

Pepper chuckled. “Careful, or you’ll make me catch it.”

You laughed tiredly. “I can walk myself back, I pretty much know the way…”

She shook her head. “It’s fine, I can walk back with you, I don’t want you getting lost.”

You were about to interject, but then you realised everyone must know about your lack of direction and any navigation skills, including her. 

After another sudden burst of raucous laughter erupted from around the table, you nudged Tony. 

“Hey, I don’t mean to be a square-”

He smirked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You chuckled. “I think I’m going to head back now. I’m pretty tired.”

“Oh, was the Paris story too much for you to handle?” 

By that point, you swore you could hear Pepper roll her eyes. “I think it was too much for any of us to handle. I’m walking her back.”

“I could do that, if you wanted to stay.”

You turned around at the sound of Steve’s voice. Pepper looked somewhat relieved, and you felt guilt course through you. 

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m kinda tired too.”

Pepper nodded, and sat back down, rolling her eyes again when Tony booed you both for being party poopers. Smiling, you thanked her and walked away, stumbling slightly as you did over the cobbles.

“You okay there?” Steve asked you. 

You smiled. “Yeah, all good. Just lost my footing.”

There really was nothing wrong, other than you being tired, but you couldn’t help but notice how he walked closer to you after that in case you fell again. 

The sky had long been blanketed with a rich midnight blue, dotted with stars, and all you could hear as you walked down the lane was the crickets and the distant sound of laughter coming from the restaurant, receding into the darkness behind you. 

“I feel a little bad, making you walk back with me.” You confessed shyly. “Like I’m some little kid that has to be back by bedtime.”

Steve shook his head. “You have an early flight tomorrow, who can blame you? Besides, if we had stayed longer, I’m pretty sure Clint woulda started dancing on tables.” 

You laughed in spite of yourself. “You’re probably right. Still, though, if he does, you can bet Nat will have filmed it.”

“Oh, sure.” He agreed. “And put it on...what’s that app called, I don’t remember-” 

You tilted your head questioningly. “What app?”

“Like some kind of social media.”

“Snapchat?”

He clapped his hands. “That’s the one.”

You chuckled, and he smiled sideways at you. 

“Hey, give me a break. I’m still adjusting.”

You smiled in apology, and suddenly had a thought. 

“How does it feel?” You blurted, before you could stop yourself. “Y’know...adjusting, I mean.”

When he didn’t answer for a few seconds, you started to feel guilty. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s no problem. I guess I just...I don’t know how to answer, that’s all.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase it. How does it feel to be, living in the 21st century, as a young man?”

He smirked. “Well, we both know I’m no young man-”

“-could have fooled me.” You said, echoing Tony’s earlier words. 

Then, the strangest thing happened. Steve actually blushed, right up to his ears, in a way that you had never seen before. You found that you quite liked it, although you didn’t know why. 

“I...uh-I guess it feels...unusual?” He stumbled over his words, trying to answer your earlier question. “I mean, it sometimes does feel like I’m not really here. Like this is just a figment of my imagination, a dream, and I’m going to wake up back in the ice again, or back in the forties, or in heaven.” 

Your heart went out to him, hearing the nonchalant way he answered the question, because you knew how he felt like he wasn’t ever going to fit in just being himself, like he wasn’t going to fit into this century. It had to be painful, knowing how he wasn’t really from this time period at all, yet somehow having to pretend to be. 

On a whim, you gently reached for his hand and clasped it in yours. 

“Well, I’m real. And Tony, Nat, Sam...the others, they’re all real too. If you feel like you’re losing it, you have us.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile, that secret smile of us you were seeing more and more. He didn’t say anything, but the grateful look he gave you spoke volumes.

 

Soon, you arrived back at the house. It was quiet, for once, and the driveway was lit up by warm yellow lanterns all around you. It struck you, not for the first time, how lucky you were to be in such a beautiful location. 

When you got inside, Steve’s expression changed like he had gotten an idea. 

“Wait here.” 

He walked away, and you stood there, feeling surprised. 

_ Maybe he’s finally realised how much of an idiot I am, and is making a break for it. I knew I shouldn’t have held his hand, that was so stupid-  _

You stopped yourself, knowing you were starting to doubt yourself when you had no reason to. You weren’t giving him enough credit - he was better than that. He wouldn’t just abandon you for no reason, and you were pretty sure he didn't think you were an idiot. Well, you hoped. 

Sure enough, a few minutes later, he reappeared. 

“Okay, close your eyes.”

You frowned. “Steve, what-”

“Just trust me.” He said, an excited look on his face. Feeling doubtful, you shut your eyes. 

“This way, doll.”

“Which way?” You asked, and promptly tripped over your own feet. He was right there, though, his hands on your arms, steering you in the right direction. You were acutely aware of how close he was to you, so close that you could feel his warmth behind you. 

You turned a corner, feeling the fresh air on your face, and realised that you had to be outside, yet the ground beneath your feet was solid, like stone. Music was playing, something old-sounding that you knew you recognised, something like Frank Sinatra.

“Open your eyes.”

You did, and found yourself standing on the edge of the courtyard at the east side of the house. You had walked through that was on a few occasions, but had never found it in use. It was one of the older parts of the house, still made of the same old sandstone.

It was lit up by a few lanterns emitting warm, golden light, but mostly by the luminescent light of the moon shining full and round in the sky above you. You looked up, and realised you could see more stars than you could count, decorating the dark blue of the sky like small gemstones.  The music was coming from a small record player in the corner, filling the air with the sound that always made tears come to your eyes, for it had been your grandfather’s favourite.

Steve was standing before you, holding out his hand. 

“Dance with me?”

A smile crept onto your face, and you shyly took it, letting him draw you towards his chest, closer than you had ever been before. He slid his hand around your waist, fingers spreading over your back, and butterflies exploded in your stomach as you felt how big and warm his hand was against your skin. 

He held your other hand in his, and your eyes came up to meet his. You faintly registered how blue his eyes were, flickering in the light of the lantern. They roamed your face, settling on your eyes, and neither of you said anything. Vaguely, you thought that he had to be able to hear your heart thundering when he was this close. 

Something inside you told you that you didn’t know how to dance like he did, and then something else told you that you could damn well try.  Slowly, gently, he began to sway you, back and forth, to the slow tempo of the music. Nothing was rushed, because now, you could take your time. 

Now, it was just the two of you. 

He stepped back, and you followed, reassured by his comforting grip, his hand around your waist. You were safe in his arms, and there was nowhere else you wanted to be. 

Steve smiled as he spun you, a smile that set your heart racing, a smile that you hoped to be just for you. 

 

He felt safe with you, calm. Not like he had ever felt in those dance halls with Bucky and his girls, always nervous about the next dance, never knowing quite where to put his feet. Something had changed, because now, the fear fell away with you in his arms. He let himself guide you, marvelling at how quickly you picked up the steps, and how well you fit in his hold, as if you were meant to dance together. 

Steve spun you again, and you laughed, a melodious sound that made him smile. He remarked on how good you were, and you just smiled. 

"I'm just as surprised as you are."

He chuckled, and the record player crackled as the song changed, to a much slower one. You drifted closer to him, as if on instinct, and he held you nearer, as if he was afraid to lose you.  Tentatively, you rested your head on his chest, and let the music seep into you. 

“I love this song.” You said, your voice quiet, barely above a whisper. 

“I had hoped you would.” He replied softly, tucking his arm around you, so that you were more in his embrace than in a hold. 

You moved slowly, barely, just letting the world stop for the two of you in that moment, feeling his heartbeat under his shirt. You didn’t want to go anywhere, you didn’t want to do anything, except be there with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, thanks for reading!  
> it's been a busy couple of weeks, and that's why this chapter was a bit slower to upload than the others, but I hoped you liked it regardless. It felt right to upload on the 4th of July, Steve's birthday, I believe. (Also, I'm not American, but a very happy fourth of July to any readers from the states out there).  
> as a side note, I wanted to mention that Tatler is a real magazine, and my grannie used to be one of the models for it so I guess that's where my inspiration came from for that.   
> If you enjoyed this chapter, I would suggest re-reading it and listening to Lana Del Rey's "yes to heaven" on repeat, then you may come close to what I was feeling when I wrote it. (I'm a huge Lana fan if you haven't realised).  
> leave a comment on what you thought if you fancy it, and stay tuned for the next chapter :)


	14. Small Day Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you try to carry on with your life, Steve questions his decision, and something mysterious happens in Vancouver.

The record had stopped playing long ago, but you had both stayed there, each one reluctant to leave the moment.

When you did, he walked you back to your room. You could barely keep your eyes open from the exhaustion, but you were still alive to where his hand rested against your lower back as he guided you through the halls, his voice as he said goodnight.

Steve gazed at you, and for a moment, you felt as if he was going to kiss you. In your drowsy state, you knew that was what you wanted.

But then he drew back, and squeezed your hand. “Have a safe flight, Y/N. And sweet dreams.”

The lingering look he gave you would stay in your memory and your dreams forever.

 

You said your goodbyes early that morning - most of the team were asleep but Natasha, Pepper and somehow Bruce (Nat told you he often woke up at odd times of the morning) came to see you off before you went to the hangar. You hugged each of them in turn, thanking Pepper profusely, despite how she insisted it was no big deal and that you had to meet up next time she was in Vancouver.

When you hugged Natasha, she whispered in your ear. “Don’t wait too long. Just don’t.”

You gave her a bewildered glance, but you were unable to question her about her cryptic statement, as Pepper summoned the concierge to help you with your bags. For the rest of the flight, you thought about what she said.

You thought about the whole week, and how strange it felt to be going away from such a place. A place that had helped you leave your worries and anxieties behind, for once.

You watched the landscape you had grown used to disappear beneath you as you flew up into the blue, knowing that nothing would be the same again. Home wouldn't feel like home, because Steve wasn’t there.

Steve, with his friendly smile, and his comforting gestures, his laugh...how he talked about the past like he wished he was there, yet when he talked about the present, he had this wistful quality that made his eyes sparkle even more than normal. 

Everything about him, everything that was ingrained into your memory was tormenting you, turning your thoughts towards him for the whole flight, until you reached Vancouver twelve hours later. It was well past midnight, and you managed to force your eyes open as you landed, looking out of your window at the inky sky around you, the city lights making it impossible to see the stars, if there were any.

It seemed like you had left some alternate dimension...or, perhaps, you had entered one, in the form of the city you lived in. Your own home was a stranger to you, and it made your heart ache. Even your apartment seemed empty as you came through the door, despite it being comfortably filled with your possessions. You’d left your drapes open, so the light of the full, polluted moon spilled through onto the floorboards, reminding you of how lonely you really were.

 

“Have a nice day,” you plastered a smile on your face at the customer you had just served, inwardly feeling as though you could be someplace better than where you were. You didn’t hate your job, you really didn’t. It was just that some people got to work and enjoyed every part of the day - they developed scripts for big blockbuster movies, they got to design video games, taste ice-cream (you knew that was, in fact, a paid job) - and here you were, serving coffee to grouchy customers for nine dollars an hour, with only brief breaks to nurse your repeatedly occurring headaches and to scoff as many breakfast bars as you could.

As it happened, your break had just begun, and you stumbled into the back room to frantically unwrap your granola bar, your stomach groaning from hunger. You bit into it, and because it was a Nature Valley bar, it crumbled fucking everywhere.

“Y/N, you got ten minutes. We’re understaffed today.” Charlie, your supervisor, called from the other room. You could hear him watching tv, the voices drifting through the doorway.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, underneath your breath, taking a swig from your water bottle. Walking into the room he was in, you discovered you had, in fact, been correct. He sat in the chair with his feet on the desk, sipping coffee and gazing mindlessly at the small, old-fashioned tv.

“Is this working?” Charlie asked you, without even turning his head.

“I’m on a break. And I could be asking you the same question.”

He didn't bother to reply, but took a bite out of his donut and continued to stare at the screen. The news channel was on, various depressing headlines popping up, making your mood darken considerably. After you'd quit S.H.I.E.L.D., you'd stayed away from the news channels for a long time - everything there brought back bad memories, and for a time, you just wanted to get away from it all. You wanted to play ignorant, and it had worked for you, at least for a while.

But you should've known better than to watch it now, for your own sake.

“A 76 year old man was shot dead last night in his Kerrisdale home in Vancouver. Authorities have not found the killer or the murder weapon, but report that the man, named Stephen Hendricks, lived alone without contact of any of his living relatives. The results of the autopsy indicate…”

“Crazy, the stuff that happens around here.” Charlie shook his head. “I mean, Kerrisdale? That’s what, ten minutes away?”

All you could do was nod, his voice tuning out as you continued to stare at the images flashing up on the screen of the elderly man. Footage from cctv had not given so much as a black outline, as the cameras were crude excuses for security. You listened as the presenter said the only possible clue was the tyre tracks left outside the house. Single tyre tracks.

And the man didn’t have a car.

 

It had been a few days since you had left. Just a few days, but the memory of you still burnt through his head. Every day, from when he woke up to when he went to sleep, he thought of you. And god help him, he missed you.

Steve missed a lot of things. He missed his home - real home, in Brooklyn, not some mirage he had tried to force himself to accept, not some squeaky clean, ultra-modern place where he stayed with his fellow Avengers. He missed his ma, he missed Peggy, he missed Bucky - and he wasn’t about to forget any of it.

But the way he missed you was different, like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky. It was like this ache that spread to his core, that filled his heart with regret that he hadn’t kissed you when he knew he should’ve. That he had let you go.

 _It’s for the best_ , he told himself. It was no good him pining over someone he could never have.

You were a hell of a lot younger than him, you didn’t have the same life experience, you didn’t even live near each other - at least, those were the things he told himself when he longed to be by your side, when he couldn't get the image of you, eyes heavy with exhaustion, silhouetted in the doorway of your room, out of his head. He didn't want to take advantage of you in your tired state - no, he would never hurt you. What he had done - leaving you where you were, letting you go - it was for the best.

So he attached himself to other things - finding Bucky, eliminating HYDRA cells. Being whatever part of the Avengers he could be, being Captain America.

But whenever he put on the uniform, you were there. In his head, saying his name.

_“You’re enough.” You smiled. “Steve.”_

 

It was five o'clock.

Your shift had long been over, the last customer had long since gone, and Charlie had given you the keys to lock up.

But there you sat, alone at one of the tables, only able to see by the small lamp and the streetlight outside. Your head buzzed with thoughts and emotions even though your body was tired from a full day’s work.

Suddenly, you rose, grabbing your jacket and turning off the lamp. You stepped into the street, locking the door to the coffee shop, and stuffing them into your pocket.

The bus for Kerrisdale was leaving in five minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger ;) I know this one's a short one, but there is definitely more to come.   
> It would really be a shame if I didn't mention the lovely comments people left on the last chapter and the kudos - it really means a lot to me to hear what you guys think. What did you like about this chapter?   
> stay tuned :)


	15. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you investigate the crime scene, Steve and the gang find out some interesting information, and you have an unexpected visitor.

The sun was already setting when the bus pulled up at the bus stop - splashes of pink and red painted the sky in vibrant colours, and you had to shade your eyes to avoid getting blinded as you walked down the street, but somehow, it didn’t feel like the sunsets in Italy. Sunsets there were golden and hazy, reminiscent of hot, drowsy days and echoing the same languor.

It wasn’t difficult to find Stephen Hendricks’s house. Surrounded by police tape and a couple of cars, it sat at the end of a leafy street, squat and humble-looking, the garden overgrown and the shades still drawn. Looking around, there was no one else there, no cops to make sure people didn’t get up to anything suspect. For a murder scene, they had done a pretty poor job of securing it.

You ducked under the tape and searched the concrete of the man’s driveway for the tyre tracks of a motorbike, or any oil slicks, but the evening light didn’t allow you much of a view.

“Hey, uh...I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” You spun around, heart pounding in your chest.

A young man, someone you presumed to be one of the occupants of the neighbouring houses, stood there, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and aviator glasses.

_Calm down. How could you be afraid of someone wearing a Hawaiian shirt?_

Your eyes travelled to the hefty-looking hedge clippers he held in his hand. He certainly was not a cop.

“Oh, sorry, I just...I was wondering if you could answer some questions.” You said, thinking quickly. “About what happened last night.”

The man frowned. “The police have already been here.”

“I’m not a cop. I’m a...reporter.” You answered, inwardly praying he would believe your lie. At least you weren’t wearing your apron. That would have been difficult to explain.

The man’s eyes widened for a second, and he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Oh, uh...what paper?”

Your mind raced. “Uh, the-the _Courier_.”

The man frowned slightly again, and for a moment you were worried you weren’t going to get away with it. “Oh, okay...sure. Ask away.”

“What...uh, what relationship did you have with Stephen Hendricks?” You asked, trying to think of some typical reporter-style questions to cover yourself, before you asked what you really wanted to know.

The man rubbed his neck. “Mr Hendricks is-was-my neighbour. Y’know, I saw him everyday come out to get his paper, I saw him gardening. He was pretty secretive, kept himself to himself.”

You nodded. “Did you ever interact?”

“Yeah, I mean...I get parcels sent to my house all the time, and when I’m not here, they would go to his house. I would go over there a couple of times to get them. I remember his house was crazy messy, and, well...he had loads of photographs on the walls.”

“Photographs of what?”

“People’s faces. I don’t think they were his family, because they weren’t in frames. They were just taped to the walls, and he had written a bunch of stuff by them, but I never knew what it was all for. I guess that was one of the weirdest things about him.”

Photographs? Of random people? “Did he have any hobbies?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know. Other than those photographs, he would sometimes garden, but you can see how that turned out.” He gestured to the weed-riddled lawn in front of his house. “How come you aren’t writing any of this down?”

 _Shit_.

“I can remember. Y’know, reporter’s brain.” You tapped your head awkwardly, hoping he would believe it. “So what time did this event occur?”

“The cops said sometime around 3, but...I heard the motorbike come in at 2.”

Your heart stopped. “A motorbike?”

“Yeah, I...I coulda sworn I heard a motorbike drive down the road. Fell asleep before I heard anything else, though.”

“T-thank you.” You said, stumbling over your words. “Thanks for your time.”

You started down the road, your mind racing, images of Nancy and her motorcycle flashing through your mind.

“Are you gonna publish that?” The man called after you. “Can I get a copy?”

“Uh...we’ll be in touch!” You shouted back, and then walked away faster than you had in a long time.

 

“Down there, do you see? By the disposal unit.”

Steve followed Natasha’s directions, and immediately identified the armed guard. He took a deep breath, and leapt from the wall.

Upon his landing, the guard turned and aimed his rifle at him, but he held up his shield as the bullets bounced off it, bullets meant for him. He tackled the guard, and delivered a clean blow to the back of his head to knock him out.

“All clear.” Steve said into his comms unit, and ran to a nearby empty bunker.

He saw Natasha throw the grenade high into the air, and braced himself for the loud noise of the explosion. For a moment, everything around him went almost white with smoke, and all he could hear was ringing in his ears, making his head ache. He squeezed his eyes shut, his palms slick with sweat, praying for it to be over.

Soon enough, the smoke cleared, and Steve rose from his crouched position, and ran towards Natasha.

He had never been fond of loud noises, ever since he was a kid - the fourth of July, his birthday, was normally spent hiding under the kitchen table eating birthday cake, wincing every time the fireworks went off. As the years went on, the city outright banned fireworks, because production was so largely unsupervised, people were essentially playing with bombs, and when the war broke out, nobody had the money or want for them anymore.

“Disable the rest of the ammunition. I think we got ‘em.” He heard Nat speak into the comms line.

“You _think_? Thinking isn’t knowing, Agent Romanoff.” Tony said, and Steve could hear the smirk in his voice.

Nat rolled her eyes, and reloaded her handgun. Steve ran after her as she stepped into the rubble, turning over stones to check if anyone was still alive.

“You seem a little tense, cap.” She commented, nudging a body with her foot, a bunch of ID falling out onto the ground, which she pocketed.

“What makes you think that?” Steve replied warily, glancing at her.

She turned a dial on her earpiece, and gestured for him to do the same. It would take them off the comms unit so they could keep their conversation private, but keep them on the emergency line.

“I haven’t heard from her. At all.” He confessed resignedly. He hated how Nat could always tell when something was wrong, and that she always knew you were the problem.

“Do you even have her number?”

Steve reddened. “I have her email…”

“No one emails anymore, Rogers. Not to chat.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to ask for it!” He protested. “It’s not like I’ve got experience in those kind of things, you know that, Nat. I don’t know how to woo a girl.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Step one would be not saying ‘woo’ again.”

“This is what I mean.” He sighed. “And it doesn’t help that she lives so far away.”

“Canada. She lives in Canada. C’mon, Steve, it’s not like it’s Thailand. It’s a six hour flight max.”

He turned to look at her. “Wouldn’t it be a bit creepy if I just turned up there?”

Natasha considered his words. “Creepy, or romantic. But you need to wait, give it some more time. Get her number.”

“...aaaand we’re back to square one.” Steve groaned. “I mean-”

“Wait.” Natasha frowned, moving her hand up to her earpiece, as if she was hearing something. He heard it too, the slow, incessant beeping, coming from the emergency line. They both tuned into their comms lines straight away, and Steve began to feel dread in the pit of his stomach.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” There was a crackle of white noise before someone answered.

“Uh...guys, we need backup. Stat.” It was Tony. “On the west side.”

“We’re on our way.” Steve said, and they both began running towards the west side of the collapsed building.

It was a mess when they got there. There had been two HYDRA agents left, Tony reported, but one of them took a cyanide pill rather than give them any information, and the other was standing on the edge of the wall that overlooked a huge drop to the rocky ground beneath. Bruce and Sam were nowhere to be seen, and Clint had one of his arrows aimed at the agent, trying to wrangle information out of him.

“Who are you operating under?” Clint edged further towards the man. “I’m not gonna ask again!”

“The west will get what it deserves.” The man hissed, spit flying from his mouth.

Without hesitation, Nat shot him in the foot. He yelped in pain, blood flowing from the bullet wound. His breathing quickened, but he still managed to smirk at Tony through gritted teeth.

“The black rider’s true wrath will be unleashed, and the human race will be conquered by their superiors. Hail HYDRA!”

Before anyone could do anything, the man dropped backwards off the ledge. Steve rushed forward, only to see him falling fast through the air, headed straight for the cold, unforgiving ground.

All that could be heard was the mysterious beeping still coming in from another line.

“Anyone else getting that?” Rhodey asked. Tony tuned in, and everyone waited with baited breath whilst he listened.

His expression darkened. “It’s Fury. There’s been a murder of one of the suspected resistance allies. There’s expected to be another strike in the same area pretty soon.”

Nat frowned. “But...where is it?”

“Vancouver.”

 

When you returned home, you slipped inside of your apartment and locked the door.

It had to be her. Everything he said. The engine noise outside his house.

The photographs. It was an old man who was shot. One bullet, just like the old man in Italy. You didn’t like to admit it, but you knew Nancy, and you knew her...style. Clean. No mess, clinical, efficient.

That wasn’t to say that she didn’t like to have fun. Maybe this time she had just had a little too much fun, on the wrong side of the tracks. Maybe it had been her genuine mistake.

You sighed, wandering into your small kitchen to make yourself a late supper. Then you would figure out what to do next. Yes, that was what you would do.

“Seems like you forgot what we learned, Y/N.” You froze.

You knew that New York drawl.

But it couldn’t be...it couldn’t be her, could it?

But who else would it be?

Slowly, slowly, you turned, your hands shaking with the carefully disguised fear that you knew she would recognise straight away. She could always smell fear...always smell your fear.

Nancy Trigeur leaned against the wall, her dark eyes on you. There was something different about her, something different to when you ran into her in that parking lot by the convenience store.

That’s when you realised she wasn’t smiling this time.

“You didn’t knock.” You said, hoping she couldn’t hear your voice trembling.

Nancy shrugged in reply. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Y/N?”

“I don’t know. Are we?” You replied, carefully.

She looked at the ground, and then at you. A cold, calculating stare. “Friends don’t go snooping behind each other’s backs. Friends don’t investigate and they don’t tell other friends what they’ve been doing.”

“I’m pretty sure friends stick up for each other, when their record is being violated illegally, when it could ruin their whole career.” You shot back, making sure you looked her in the eye.

Nancy sighed. “What career, Y/N? You know you’ll only ever be good at one thing. Following orders. And you want to know why?”

You raised your chin defiantly. “Enlighten me.”

She leaned forward, almost conspiratorially, as if she were telling you some great secret. “Orders keep you safe. Safe from what’s going on up here.” She tapped her head. “I’ve seen your psych report.”

Your confidence wavered. “Those were confidential records.”

“You can’t live your life on your own orders, Y/N. You can’t be independent unless there’s someone. Someone to rely on, so you can trip out, without even being on drugs.”

Face burning, you shook your head. “It’s not true. I...I can support myself."

“We’ll see.” Nancy leaned back against the wall.

Trying to gather whatever confidence you had left, you spoke. “I know you shot that old man in Italy. And I know you shot Stephen Hendricks, because of all those photographs. You’re risking it, staying here while they’re still investigating. The question is, why?”

“Very good.” She praised. “Not quite S.H.I.E.L.D. standard, but-”

“Cut the bullshit, Nancy.” You snapped, already tired of her games.

She rolled her eyes, like a petulant child. “Fine. _Fine_.”

“Are you here to kill me?” Nancy threw back her head and laughed, the same throaty laugh that you hated, deep to your core. “And why would I do that? You’re a minimal threat, Y/N. You’re not even close to the top of my list.”

“Then why are you here?” You demanded.

She examined her nails. “To tell you that your friends will be paying you a visit pretty soon. But not for very long.”

You laughed, and to your surprise, it sounded as cold and dead as hers. Funny what a week of isolation could do to someone. “Pretty sure I don’t have those.”

“Oh, no, I mean your new friends. The Avengers.”

Your heart plummeted, and only one person’s name came into your mind. His name, his voice, his smile… “S-Steve?”

Nancy nodded. Her gaze was predatory. “That’s right, Captain America’s going to be paying you a visit, and the rest of ‘em. They think that there’s going to be an attack here tomorrow. But they’re just gonna walk right into it.”

“Into...into what?” You didn’t even bother to disguise the trembling of your voice anymore.

“My associates will be here. They’ll make it swift. Clean. One less thing to worry about.”

Your eyes widened as you understood her meaning. It was a trap, and they were going to walk into it. It was so stupidly simple there was a chance it might work.

“You think you can take down the fucking Avengers? You’re even more of an idiot than I thought.” You spat, injecting some bravery into your voice.

That was when she actually smirked. For the first time, a bright, vicious grin lit up her face like the cheshire cat. “I guess we’ll have to see.” She said softly.

Dangerously soft. With that, she pushed herself from the wall with ease, and made a sudden gesture with her hand.

You didn’t even have a chance to stop the huge man as he yanked your arms behind your back, and kicked you to the floor. All you could do was curse at yourself that you didn’t even notice him, you were so caught up with letting her sweet talk you. You struggled, lashed out with your arms, but it was no use, because when it came to strength, this man was stronger than you. Every kick earned you a blow to the head, to the jaw, until you were a bruised and bloodied mess, aching and humiliated. When he was done, he stood, as if admiring his handiwork.

“What are you gonna do, leave me here?” You forced your bloodied mouth into a smirk, trying to regain the upper hand.

But deep down, you knew you had lost it long ago. All Nancy had to do was look at the man, and he delivered a blow to your face that made your lips and nose sting as fresh blood gushed.

You looked her right in the eye, waiting for the punishing blow. But it didn’t come.

“If you make this difficult, if I have to kill you, I promise it won’t be as clean as the others. You deserve something better than that.”

The door closed softly as they both left, and you realised that you were alone again. With no one left to put on a show for, you let your head drop forward, and the tears you had been holding in fall.

 

“Steve, you can’t just go to Canada.”

“I can damn well do what I want!” He yelled, surprised at the volume of his own voice, echoing off the walls of the jet. The others visibly recoiled at the tone of his voice, and he softened.

“I can’t just stay here, when she’s there, and she’s not safe…” he sighed.

Nat gave him a sympathetic look. “We know you’re worried about her, Steve, but we have to be rational about this. We can’t just-”

“Worried about her?!” He exploded. “You think that’s what it is?”

“Steve-”

“Oh, but then how would you know? How could you possibly know that I’m so damn well in love with her that I can’t fall asleep at night ‘cause every single moment, every second of the day I’m not with her is so agonisingly painful that I may as well just push a bullet through my damn brain because I can’t believe I let her go!”

No one spoke. No one even dared breathe.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know you had it that bad.” Sam intoned quietly.

“If you’re going, we’re not going to let you go alone.” Natasha promised.

“Yeah, cap...if there’s gonna be a HYDRA strike, it’s also a matter of importance to the state, y’know.” Tony smirked. “As well as a chance for you to save Y/N, y'know, flex those big superhero muscles."

Steve reddened with embarrassment. “No, I-”

“Hey, Tony? We’ve got another incoming message from Fury.” Bruce called from the other end of the jet. “Says that Trigeur’s in Vancouver, they’ve got eyes on her.”

“And?” Tony urged.

Bruce turned to them. “She was just seen leaving an apartment on the west side.”

“It’s like she’s taunting us, not even trying to hide.” Clint muttered.

“Whose apartment was it?”

Bruce shrugged. “Doesn’t say. But Fury seems to think that she only ever had one other suspected target in that area, other than that Hendricks guy.”

Steve’s face drained of colour. “Y/N.”

Nat rested a hand on his shoulder. “Steve, we don’t know that.”

“Who else would it be?” He said in a low voice, sitting down defeatedly.

“Could have been another old guy, from the resistance, y’know…” Rhodey prompted, nodding.

“There aren’t any left in the lower mainland area.” Bruce interjected.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Bruce.” Sam snapped.

“How long would it take to get there, from here, Tony?”

“A couple of hours.” He said, beginning to fiddle with dials on the control pad. “Half the time it would usually take. This is no commercial jet.”

“But we would be walking into a trap.” Rhodey said. “We’d be doing just what she wants.”

“And we have no idea how much backup she has, how many associates…” Clint added.

Tony’s eyes wandered towards the heavens. “We’ve got...backup, of sorts.”

"You’re suggesting Thor?” Nat looked incredulous.

“Right on the money as usual, agent Romanoff.” Tony said. “They’re expecting us to walk into the trap. But what they’re not expecting is for us to know it’s a trap. Rhodey, Nat, I’m going to need you to pilot.”

“We’re doing this?” Nat frowned, sliding into the seat at the front of the jet.

“Affirmative.” Tony nodded. “Let’s get her airborne.” He turned to Steve. “We’re gonna go get her, and then we’re gonna beat the shit out of these HYDRA bastards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!   
> chapter sixteen is in the works, but I'm going to be away for two weeks from now so there won't be any updates until I'm back, but I'll make sure ch.16 is ready to go by then for you lovely readers :) it's going to be verryy angsty and hopefully you'll love it, so stay tuned.


	16. I'm stronger with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Avengers arrive in Vancouver, and you are reunited with Steve

If anyone walked past your door at that time of night, they would have no idea what had happened in your apartment earlier that evening.

The cars rushed past on your street below, loud music played from the houses opposite, and life carried on. Like it always did. '

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, barely recognisable. Tears mingled with blood and sweat on your bruised face, your hair hung down around your face like a matted curtain, and your clothes were torn and covered with your own blood. You were bound to a chair, every limb aching from the position you were in.

Every muscle in your body was screaming at you to give up, to give into the darkness that waited behind your eyelids. Nobody was there to help you. Not your neighbours, because one of them was deaf, and one of them was on holiday. That was what you hated the most about the whole sorry situation. That she had done her research - that she had planned her attack in advance, planned every second of your humiliation.

Slowly, you lifted your head, wincing at the pain shooting through your skull when you turned it towards the window. Neon lights from the convenience store opposite lit up your small living room, bathing the dark room in bright pink and orange. The moon lay beyond that, a sliver of light in the black sky.

You wondered, as you slipped into unconsciousness, if Steve was somewhere close, under the same moon.

 

A few hours later, Steve began to glimpse the bright city lights of Vancouver through the clouds. Up until that point, it had been a perfectly clear and still night, but now the faint rumble of thunder began to shake the air around them.

It never seemed to get old - flashes of white would light up the sky, like the flick of a switch, and build into a crescendo. Unconsciously, their eyes wandered up towards the ceiling in anticipation of what was to come.

"Incoming from Fury." Bruce said in a shaky voice from the other end of the jet. It always got to him, when he came. He had to keep himself under check, or the other guy would come busting out and scare everyone.

"Never stops, that guy." Clint muttered, causing Nat to snort.

"What's he saying?" Steve pressed, ignoring the others.

“Nelson street, west end. Second floor, third apartment from the left.” Bruce said. “That’s where he saw Trigeur leave from.”

“Surely she’d be miles away from there by now.” Nat frowned from the control deck.

“We’ll scour the west end.” Sam said. “Leave no place unchecked. Find her and her associates, and collapse whatever the hell organisation she’s got running.”

“Easier said than done.”

There was no mistaking the deep, rumbling voice that seemed to echo around the nervously quiet room of the jet. Heavy footsteps and the clink of metal, the faint scent of burning electricity. They turned their heads, eyes resting upon the god amongst them, who surveyed them with a curious eye.

However, there was no condescension in his gaze, no superiority-they had, after all, come to realise he viewed them as equals, and despite the occasional outburst, was really quite friendly.

“Thor.” Steve heard himself saying. “Glad you could join us.”

Thor shook his head. “It is my pleasure to aid you on your quest, as always.”

His eyes wandered to where Bruce was trying to avoid his eye line, trying to steady himself against the wall.

He looked at Tony. “I trust that everything is well with you, Stark?”

Tony shrugged, eyes on a device he was using to track any nocturnal movement happening in your neighbourhood. “Ah, you know. Same soup, just reheated.”

“It seems you have a bit of trouble on your hands.”

“If trouble goes by the name Nancy Trigeur, then you’re right.”

Sam nodded. “She’s been taking out members of an allied group set to destroy HYDRA.”

“It was set up in the late forties, and it seems most of the men that have survived are...old, and amongst their other vocations, locate remaining HYDRA cells, arranging for their deaths and cover ups.” Nat added.

Thor raised his eyebrows. “That reminds me of my father’s chess society.”

“Recently she got one of our own.” Rhodey informed him.

“So we’re going to find her, possibly be ambushed by a few trained assassins,” Tony called, “Sound like fun?”

The conversation carried on, but Steve wasn’t listening. He hadn’t been listening for a while.

Finding you hurt was one thing.

Finding you dead… That was a different thing entirely.

But it was playing on his mind, more than he wanted it to. A world without you in it. A world empty and cold, because you weren’t there to bring it meaning. And for the first time in a while, he caught a glimpse into his old self, the one just out of the ice, the version of himself that had no purpose and no direction, that couldn’t remember what a hug felt like, that spent the days wallowing until they blurred into a year of self pity and overwhelming bleakness. He knew he would be like that if you weren’t around anymore. A shell of himself.

You brought out the best in him. And he didn’t want to let you go, he didn’t want to let you slip away.

 _Hold on for me_ , he thought, _hold on._

 

A single streetlight lit the whole road, illuminating the remnants of a summer rain that still glistened on the pavement, but the neon sign was bright enough to light his way, as he entered the only block of apartments on the street.

_Second floor, third apartment from the left._

A single thought was spurring him on, in long strides up the flights of stairs, his footfalls heavy. If there had been anyone there, a sniper waiting in ambush, he would have been risking it. But there was only you, in his mind, and he couldn’t care about anything else.

He reached the second floor.That was it, at the end of the corridor.

Unsurprisingly, the door was locked.

“Y/N?”

Nothing. No sound. No answer.

His heart beat just a little bit faster.

Steve bounded back down the stairs and out of the block, glancing up at the building before him. There was your apartment window, and behind it, was you. He knew it.

In one sudden and uncalculated motion, he jumped, gripping onto the sill.

 _This may not have been the best idea_. He swung himself up, using whatever he could find as handholds. His arms and legs burned, and his hands became sweaty, but there was no way he was turning back now. Because he was right outside your open window, and with one swift push-

-he was through.

 

Someone was there. It was dark, and the pain felt unbearable, but you weren’t alone.

“Y/N?” A voice whispered your name, softly.

Hands grazed your blood-streaked face, and warmth surrounded you. The scent of someone familiar filled your senses, and you opened your eyes, slowly, slowly, to the face that had been haunting your dreams almost every night.

You heard yourself say his name, barely recognising your own voice, hoarse and weak.

Concern was in his beautiful eyes as he said your name back, so quietly you could barely hear.

“I’m here.”

And then it all came rushing back to you. Nancy, ambushing you in your apartment, picking you apart, how you had tried so hard to be strong in front of her - how easily the brute force of someone much bigger than you had overcome you, how pathetic your resistance had seemed to them-

Your words came tumbling out in broken sobs, each one making Steve’s heart ache. “I tried-I’m sorry...I tried to fight them, but-”

He hushed you, and pulled you closer, so that you were buried in his chest, enclosed in his embrace. Tears ran down your face, the sounds of your pain making him never want to leave you again. His hand clasped your head, and he pressed his lips gently to the top of it.

“I’m here,” he repeated, his voice shaking with emotion, “and I’m not going to leave you again. You hear me?”

Steve kept murmuring to you, sweet words of condolence, reassuring you that everything was going to be alright. How you wished you could believe him.

 

They were here.

Gunshots rang out. One, two… ...three. T

hen silence.

Steve tuned into the comms line, but there was nothing there but silence, too.

You prayed they hadn’t hit their mark. Scrambling up off the floor, you stumbled towards the window, your legs unsteady and your head spinning from the sudden movement. You weren’t sure if it was her, but before you could find out, you found yourself swaying toward the floor.

Steve rushed to steady you, making sure you didn’t fall.

“Where are the others?” You asked him, a panicked edge holding onto your voice.

He shook his head, knowing exactly what you were going to do. “I need you to stay here. Stay safe.”

_“Where are they?!”_

Steve had never seen you like this, a crazed look in your eye, pupils darting around feverishly like you were looking for someone who wasn’t there. He rested his hand on your shoulder, desperately trying to calm you down.

“Y/N…” he said worriedly. There was no ignoring the unnatural way your breath had quickened, the shaking of your hands, so much smaller than his...his other hand reached for yours, clasped it tightly in his, as if he was trying to hold onto every piece of you he could.

Gradually, you softened, the tension in your body not completely disappearing - but enough for you to draw nearer to him, resting your head against his neck.

Steve could barely move, barely breathe.

He didn’t want to disturb the peace he knew you were chasing. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, feel like he was taking advantage of you. He didn’t want you to slip back into that state of restlessness, so he waited, matching your slow, heavy breathing. Tilting your head slowly, you looked up at him, and Steve could see the tears in your eyes reflected in the neon lights in your living room.

“I’m sorry…” That was your near-silent apology, and he didn’t even know what it was for.

“Don’t be sorry. None of this is your fault, Y/N.”

Too exhausted to argue, you nodded, letting your head rest on his chest, finding his heartbeat and using it as an anchor, keeping you in place in the rough, stormy seas of your mind.

The sudden beeping from his comms unit interrupted the moment, and with a sliver of reluctance, he tuned in.

“Steve, have you found her?” Nat was saying into his ear. “Have you found Y/N, is she okay?”

“Yes.” Steve confirmed. “I got her, she’s a little unsteady, but she’s okay.”

There was a sigh of relief from somewhere down the line, but he was unsure where it was coming from.

“We heard gunshots just now. I checked into the line, but no one answered.”

“We’ve got the location of three of her agents. There’s a square just a few blocks down from here, they were waiting for us. We got ‘em, but there could be more.”

“What about Trigeur?” There was a pause.

“We...still don’t have her location. Bruce is looking into it.”

“ _Shit.”_

“What is it?” Nat’s voice was laced with worry. The curse hadn’t come from her, or Steve.

“I got a line from Bruce. Someone’s hacked into this comms line, it’s not safe.” Sam said.

There were numerous beeps as each member of the team went offline, and Steve followed with one of his own. Protocol had been put in place, meaning they would be using the emergency line from now on if completely necessary, but the damage had already been done.

Steve turned to you. “We need to get out of here. Can you walk?”

You nodded, and not bothering to ask any questions, you made for the door to your apartment. Steve laid a gentle hand on your shoulder to halt your movement.

“I’ll go first. Is there a back entrance?”

“Laundry room.” You replied. “There’s a set of stairs just round the corner.”

 

Once you were out of the building, you could hear the police sirens a few blocks away, but the two of you didn’t stop running. You ran, like you had never run before, into the darkness, barely able to keep up with Steve, who was powering ahead of you like a steam train.

“Any ideas?” He asked you, briefly turning his head to look at you.

“Nelson park. It’s just a couple blocks away, straight down this road.” You said, unable to disguise your voice as you panted for breath.

But you kept going. There was no mistaking it now - your apartment wasn’t safe anymore, as the location of each team member could be found if the comms line was hacked into. They would be swarming on the place within seconds.

Finally you reached the outskirts of the park, the darkness only punctured by the odd streetlight here and there. You raced past the sign, and into the slight fog that shrouded the ground. As you both ventured on, the fog grew thicker. At least it would offer some kind of camouflage.

Steve hadn’t stopped running, but your chest had begun to feel tighter and your breathing more constricted with every pump of your arms and legs. He glanced back at you, a couple steps behind him, and stretched out his hand.

“Come on, Y/N.”

You gave him an uneasy smile and took it, letting him pull you along towards the line of trees that you could shelter beneath. It was darker under the canopy of branches, where the light of the moon didn’t quite reach through, and where Steve wouldn’t be able to see just how red your face was from all the running.

You leaned against the trunk of an old oak tree, forcing deep breaths of the night air into your lungs. A sharp pain pulled at your head, and you let it fall back before the dizziness hit you again.

Steve shot you a concerned look from the corner of his eye. “You okay?”

That same uneasy smile appeared again on your features. “If I told you I was, would you tell I was lying?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he walked over to you, that same smile he wore when you were alone together. You didn’t realise how much you had missed it until that moment.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered.

“I’ve...missed you, too.” You confessed. His smile deepened, and he reached for your hand, clasping it tightly in his. You had become used to it, a sign of comfort.

“What do we do now?”

“Lay low, for a while.”

You sighed. “Won’t be long until they come looking.”

“Is there someplace else we could go?”

“If you go that way,” you pointed towards the exit of the park, “you’re heading into downtown Vancouver. Head west, and there’s the beach.”

He contemplated this for a moment. “They’ll be expecting us to head downtown. How long would it take to get to the beach?”

You shrugged. “About ten minutes. There’s a park right by it, we could hide in the trees.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

He was still holding your hand firmly in his as you emerged from the trees, darting down the path to the street that lay beyond it. You could glimpse the streetlights that grew in number as you headed towards the exit of the park, and realised that if you moved quickly enough, you could reach the beach in less than ten minutes. Glancing over your shoulder, the moon was waning in the night sky, meaning dawn was approaching. Nancy’s associates wouldn’t be able to hide forever. If the sirens were anything to go by, some of them had already been found. 

The thought was reassuring to you, and spurred you on. 

You opened your mouth to tell him, but before any words could come out, you heard a gunshot.

It was close, closer than it had sounded when you were in your apartment.

You turned around, and to your horror, you saw the black outline of a figure at the exit of the park, holding up a pistol. You weren’t sure who they were aiming at.

There was another gunshot.

This time, you didn’t wait.

Steve dragged you back up the path in the other direction, pulling out his handgun.

“We have to head downtown, we can hide th-”

The ground seemed to shake as there was another shot.

Steve turned around just in time to see you crumple to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! it's been a while, hasn't it?  
> I'm sorry for the delay but I'm glad to say I've had a restful few weeks to think about where I want this story to go, and to write this chapter. It was especially difficult because I wanted to get Steve and the reader's meeting just right - hopefully you enjoyed.   
> As always, thank you so much for your kind comments and kudos on my last chapter, it means a lot.   
> Chapter seventeen is fast approaching, so sit tight :)


	17. Something odd in Nelson Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve has to deal with the aftermath of your injury, and beat the clock to get you to safety before Nancy and her mysterious associates arrive.

There was no mistaking the urgent beeping coming from the emergency line. It shattered the night’s silence like a million shards of glass scattering on a slate floor.

It made Tony’s stomach lurch and Sam’s chest tighten.

One by one, they tuned in to hear the message.

 

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

You, falling to the ground-Steve dropping to his knees beside you, shooting blindly into the distance-

For a moment he couldn’t tell whether his shot had hit the mark at all, but in the seconds that followed, there were no more gunshots.

There was just the sound of distant traffic, and a breeze rustling through the trees… ...and your anguished cries.

 

All colour had drained from your face, your delicate hands gripping the wound. There was blood everywhere- all over your hands, and your clothes, and Steve’s were shaking as he tore off a strip of your shirt and held it to the wound.

Tuning into the emergency line, he heard himself say something, desperately, his words jumbling together-

“I need backup, Y/N’s been shot-”

White noise answered him.

A curse left his lips.

You struggled for breath, blood blurring in your vision. “Fuck-Steve-”

His face was painted with fear, but he took your blood-covered hand in his and held it tight, managing a small smile.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re gonna get you help, okay, doll?” Steve said, his voice soft, but shaking with barely-disguised fear.

Tears escaped your eyes, and ran down your bruised face, and not for the first time, Steve vowed to destroy Nancy Trigeur.

 

Everything was...blurry. That was what you noticed first, before agonising pain set in, consuming your whole body, and burning forcefully at your wound. Something was pressed to it, the blood-soaked material of your t-shirt, and someone held your hand tight in theirs. But before you could figure out who it was, a cold voice rang out in the night, one that you recognised, even in your state.

It was Nancy, and you winced involuntarily as pain stabbed at you relentlessly.

You felt the absence of a warm hand holding yours, as the person leapt to their feet and moved in front of you.

“Put down the gun, Nancy.”

 _Steve_ , your mind wondered, and you achingly reached out to him-

Her tone was snide as she answered him, sounding muffled, “I see that there isn’t much time left for Y/N. A pity, I wanted to have the honour myself.”

“Your friend. She was your friend. And you wanted this.” His voice sent calming waves through your body, even though you were burning like hellfire all over.

“Not necessarily. Just enough for her to be out of the way of the bigger picture.”

“And what was that?”

“What do you think? The death of all the avengers, for there to be room for the next generation. For HYDRA, you see.” She said. “I trained for a long time to combat it, to take down HYDRA, but then I realised I’d been brainwashed. And so have you, _Captain_ America.”

He seemed to ignore that. “Next generation?”

“Ah,” and you heard the smirk in her voice, “so you didn’t know. Fury didn’t tell you. There are some like you, and your friend Bucky, who pledge their allegiance to HYDRA. Stronger.”

“The black rider’s wrath will be released, and the human race will be conquered by their superiors.” Steve's voice fell flat, remembering the agent’s words just before he threw himself off the cliff.

Nancy hummed. “That’s right. I’m told they’re very...cohesive. Efficient.”

“You seem to have no problem telling me all this.”

“That’s because I’m gonna kill you, cap.”

You struggled, alarmed by her words, trying to get to Steve-

“No!” Your words caught in your throat, only able to watch as Steve swung his shield at her with enough force to blow her backwards, but instead, she dodged it effortlessly, catching it, and throwing it back at him, knocking him clean off his feet.

He barely had time to get back up before she threw a punch to his jaw that would knock anyone else’s lights out - he caught her arm before she was able to throw another punch and for a moment it seemed like he had her-

Then, another agent walked out of the black.

“Steve-” you cried out, trying to get up, seeing stars as your whole body spasmed with pain-

He didn’t see the other agent coming, before he kicked him forcefully in the back of his knees, making him fall to the ground. Steve turned just as the man threw a blow to his head.

You yelled out his name incoherently, as Nancy took his gun-

Steve turned, grabbing the man’s arm and twisting it until he heard a sickening crack-

The man screamed in pain and grabbed his arm, stumbling backwards.

Steve saw his opportunity and lunged forward, grabbing his gun out of Nancy’s grasp, and turning it on her.

“It’s a shame that we had to meet again like this,” she began, reaching for her own gun-

Then, with uncharacteristic vulgarity, Steve said,

“Shut the hell up, Nancy.”

And shot her straight in the head.

 

A few moments later, Natasha and Clint appeared on the scene, followed by Rhodey, Sam and Tony and Thor. After catching sight of Nancy lying dead on the ground, Tony nodded slowly.

“Seems like you have it...covered, cap.”

Steve was at your side in seconds, holding your hand again as you offered him a weak smile. Still reeling from the adrenaline, he turned.

“Y/N needs medical attention, stat.” Steve commanded. “Get the jet. And…”

He glanced over to the HYDRA agent who was still wailing on the ground.

“...someone deal with that guy.”

 

As the jet landed, and you were carted off to a hospital, followed by a worried Steve and an increasingly confused Bruce, Thor approached the agent lying on the ground.

He was squealing in pain, clutching his broken arm, (and probably broken shoulder, too).

Thor sighed in bewilderment.

“I will never understand how you humans break so easily.” He tutted. “Like the dolls my mother used to let my brother play with.”

Catching sight of the Asgardian god standing above him, the man paled and his eyes grew horrifyingly wide.

“Still, it was fun to watch him snap their heads off.”

The eyes grew wider still.

“I’m not as enthusiastic as my brother was, but…” Thor raised Mjölnir over his head with ease, “...it was fun to watch him play.”

Thor brought the hammer down with unforgiving force.

 

Beyond the perimeter of Nelson Park, a woman finished dialling 911, and pressed the phone to her ear. An operator picked up. 

"911, what's your emergency?"

The woman stared out of her window, as a strange, futuristic-looking jet lifted into the air. 

"Um...the Avengers just left Nelson Park in a spaceship and Thor is beating a man to death with a hammer..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! it's been a pretty dramatic and hectic few chapters, hasn't it? I promise you things will calm down in the next few chapters and we'll get to see more of Steve and the reader and the aftermath of the events in Vancouver.   
> As always, thank you for the kudos and kind comments - you guys are really sweet and I do appreciate the support.   
> Have a great rest of the day and chapter eighteen will be up soon, stay tuned ;)


	18. Be there when I wake up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve realises how it's getting harder to leave your side.

_“...the events of which occurred last night at around one a.m., took place in Vancouver’s Nelson Park. The body of Antonin Sokolov, a suspected agent of HYDRA, was discovered when police arrived at the scene. This is said to be the work of the Avengers, who were spotted leaving the scene at half past one, followed by their Asgardian counterpart, Thor. Police enquiries have found that…”_

The news presenters voice drifted from the TV, with the usual unenthusiastic monotony of a morning news channel.

“Didn’t take them long.”

Steve jolted at Sam’s remark, scrubbing his hands over his face in a desperate attempt to keep himself awake. If Sam thought it was strange, he didn’t say anything, just sat down next to Steve at a comfortable distance.

It had been eight hours. Eight hours since you had been admitted to the ER, sent briskly to the operating room, and hadn’t come out. Eight hours since Steve had seen you, since you had been alright, and all he could think about was how selfish he was, how he had made a mistake, how it had been his fault-

“I mean, they don’t even mention us by name anymore. Just call us the ‘Avengers.’”

When Steve didn’t say anything, he carried on talking.

“‘Course the god-man gets a name drop. I bet he pays them.”

Steve sighed.

He couldn’t stand much more of this, waiting and wondering. He had to know how you were doing. Standing up, he told Sam he was going to get some water, and proceeded to walk down the corridor from the room, right past the water cooler.

Sam smirked to himself, and picked up a magazine.

 

The surgery had lasted two hours, and you were out for the count, the heart monitor beeping monotonously beside you, the only sound in the quiet room.

Steve stood motionless in the doorway.

Somehow, after one of the hardest nights of his life, he was unable to believe that you were there. That you were real, and alive. But there you were lying in a hospital bed, pale and worse for wear, with what seems like a thousand lines running out of your arms, yet still undeniably alive.

Carefully, he sat in the chair at your bedside, and took your hand in his, feeling how cold you were. You could have become colder still, but you didn’t. Steve squeezed your hand.

“I’m here.” He whispered, remembering that night when he told you about how sometimes he felt like nothing was real. You had clasped his hand, smiling reassuringly.

_“Well, I’m real. And Tony, Nat, Sam...the others, they’re all real too. If you feel like you’re losing it, you have us.”_

Steve grasped your hand tighter.

 

Slowly, you began to wake.

As gently as the calm of a storm, you emerged from the depths of those murky waters of sleep, suspended listlessly for a moment in the world in between worlds, before being plunged into the rapids, tossed around like a child’s doll in the whitewash. All to quickly you became aware of infinite layers of light stabbing at your eyelids, and when you tried to move to escape it, pain engulfed you like a raging storm.

“Hey, don’t move.” Your eyes opened at the sound of a voice nearby. Steve was sitting at your bedside, wearing a weak smile.

“Y/N.” He said, sounding alert all of a sudden. “I’ll get the doctor.”

A careful turn of your head and you saw the formidable-looking dressing covering your wound, along with various IV lines running into your arms. Well, you were still alive, if the heart monitor was anything to go by. Somehow, it didn’t feel like it.

Nodding along as the doctor updated you on your condition, you fought sleep threatening to overcome you. Fortunately, Steve seemed to be listening.

 _Steve_ , you thought, a small smile playing on your lips. His name circled your mind, his face, and his voice, and you were happy with that. Someone said your name, and you realised you had been falling asleep.

The doctor looked at you. “I was just telling your friend that we’re going to have to keep you here a few more nights. You lost a lot of blood, and we don’t want to risk infecting that wound. I hope that’s okay.”

It sounded as if you didn’t really have a choice, but you forced your head into a nod anyway.

“Try not to keep her awake too long. She needs sleep, and plenty of it.” The doctor said to Steve. “I’ll be back in an hour to check her vitals.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you, doctor.”

Watching the doctor leave, you reached a tentative hand up to feel your face, half-afraid that you would find some sort of horrible disfigurement there. It was only possible after everything that had happened.

“They washed off all the blood, and cleaned your gashes.” Steve smiled, tilting his head to one side. “But I thought you looked kinda...badass with them.”

It hurt to laugh, so you settled on a smile. “That’s a first.”

There was a pause, where Steve gazed at you, something akin to wonder in his eyes. "You got through, doll." He whispered. "You made it."

You were barely able to believe it yourself, looking back at him, feeling infinitely vulnerable for a sudden. Translucent blue in his eyes, lit up by the harsh hospital lights, you got lost in them easily.  Was that...relief, too, lingering on his face?

Then, from the incoherent depths of your mind, “You shot Nancy.”

Steve’s smile was gone. He sighed, looking down at his feet. “Yeah, I…"

“I thought you would get in trouble.” You said. “I was worried they would find out.”

“You were worried...about me?” Steve grinned, somewhat lopsidedly.

“I don’t want you to go to jail.” You said, seriously.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not going to jail, doll. I might have some explaining to do, but I’m not going to jail.”

You visibly relaxed, and closed your eyes. “That’s good.”

He sat down beside you, being careful not to disturb any of the monitors or equipment. It struck him as strange when they had all this new-fangled tech to keep people alive, yet it felt like it was only minutes before that you had been slipping away from him.

You began to drift off, barely registering the feeling of his warm hand holding yours.

 

Something wasn’t right. From deep within the haze of sleep, you felt cold, and alone.

Desperately reaching out, your hands grabbed at empty air. You tried to move but something was anchoring you down. You searched for warmth where there was none, just an endless void waiting for you to fall into it.

And you were weightless, easily tipping over the edge.

 

Steve couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t watch you struggle restlessly in your sleep like this.

“Let me wake her.” He begged the doctor, who shook his head.

“She has to come to in her own time. Any disturbances will just set her off, and she won’t heal. She needs to rest." The doctor glanced Steve over shrewdly. “I would suggest seeing a nurse about that gash on your head.”

Steve exhaled. The man wasn’t going to budge, and Steve was no medical professional himself. If you needed to rest, he wouldn’t disturb you. But he wasn't going to ignore how it was getting harder and harder to leave your side.

 

It was dark when you opened your eyes. Cold. Steve wasn't there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, hope you enjoyed that! I know I said this would be up sooner but life got in the way I guess.   
> I know it's a short one as well and I will definitely make up for that next chapter. I had fun writing this, though. I think there'll be more appearances of the Avengers in the next chapter with the reader. Let me know what you think.   
> (also, Lana's new album dropped today and I felt like it was fitting uploading this, seeing as this fic is named after one of her greatest hits. Have a listen).   
> stay tuned for chapter nineteen :)


	19. There are many things in life you can postpone, but love isn't one of them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce comes to visit, and Steve goes on a mission. (Chapter title is from a poem by Lang Leav)

In the days that followed, you were bombarded by an onslaught of visits from the rest of the team.

Natasha and Clint were the first ones to be allowed a visit (other than Steve-you suspected he had been granted some sort of approval, and you had no problem with it) and they spent the whole time goofing around, making you laugh until the nurse came in and gave them a strong look of disapproval. Pepper also visited, when she had time in her busy schedule, and the two of you would have long talks about everything from nuclear war to making a good key lime pie - you felt comfortable letting her lead the conversation, and were more than happy to let her talk your ear off. She explained that if he could, Tony would see you as often as the others (something you highly doubted) but he was caught up with sorting out all the trouble Nancy’s HYDRA cell had left in their wake.

Sam and Rhodey occasionally dropped by with movies for you to watch, complete with pockets loaded with snacks, and watched the films with you whilst they sneaked you popcorn and m&m’s before the nurses saw.

It almost brought tears to your eyes, when you thought of how you had all these people who actually wanted to see you, talk with you, and make you feel better. It made the pain more bearable, knowing that you had friends to wile away the long hours with.

Sometimes when you woke up, the lights turned down to a dim glow, Steve would be sitting at your bedside, head falling to one side as he snored quietly.

Those moments were your favourite.

 

It was the third day of your time in Vancouver general hospital, and Bruce had come for a visit.

It was the first time you had seen him since Italy, and you were beyond grateful because you knew how difficult it was for him being around people he didn’t know that well.

He was attentive, making sure you weren’t too tired to talk, listening carefully to what the doctors were telling him about how much rest you needed, making sure you were propped up just right- when you asked him, Bruce settled into the chair on the right side of your bed, and clasped his hands.

“Because, when I tell you, you’re gonna want to leap straight outta that bed you’re in, Y/N.”

That made you want to sit up.

“What is it?”

He leaned forward. “Remember your old boss, the one who must’ve reported you for disobeying orders, the one that filed in that you had been fired, not that you had quit?”

“Yeah?” You said, slightly uneasily.

“Well, he’s been caught.” Bruce said. “Along with a couple of others. They were said to have been tied to a HYDRA cell, like the one Nancy operated in. There’s a chance they could’ve been working together.”

You sat in silence, trying to process this new information. “When did this happen?”

“A few days ago.” Bruce smiled slightly. “I think you may have someone to thank for that.”

 _Tony_ , you thought. You still wondered why you had such amazing friends that would go to those lengths for you.

“Your record is being changed as we speak, so no one will have any misconceptions. There are still those that remain, though.” Bruce reminded you.

“Any idea who else it was?”

Bruce looked at his hand, peering at small, spidery handwriting on the skin there. “Laurence Chaisty.”

You frowned. Where did you know that name?

Then it dawned on you.

“Oh my God.”

Bruce instantly looked alarmed. “What?”

“My mom, she...she rang me a few weeks ago, when we were in Italy. She was trying to set me up with this guy.”

“And that was him?”

“Yeah. I swear she said that name. Said he worked for a government corporation.”

“Wonder what he was doing moving in the same circles as your mom.” Bruce said, with no little suspicion.

You didn’t shrug, because that hurt like a bitch (a lesson well-learned) so you settled on a ‘beats me’ expression. It did strike you as odd, that this man had met your mom, and you wondered if him getting found out had anything to do with their meeting.

Things were just getting weirder and more confusing, yet here you were, stuck in a hospital bed.

“Does she know you were shot?” Bruce asked, quietly. He always spoke like that, softly, as if he was afraid he was going to hurt someone with his words.

You looked up at him. “No. And I think I’m going to keep it that way, for now.”

“You know people are going to find out, somehow. It’s going to get out.”

“Why’s that?”

“Part of Nancy’s mission was to expose the Avenger’s secrets. You’re part of those secrets now, Y/N.”

All you could do was sit quietly, and think through what Bruce had just said. A few weeks ago, you had thought all your ambitions and dreams had gone up in smoke because of a vicious rumour circulated at your workplace, and now, even though those responsible had been found out, you didn’t know how you felt. You were still lost.

At least you weren’t alone, this time.

 

Once your meeting with Bruce had reached its quota of time, the nurses ushered him out, and told you to get some sleep.

You had come to realise that when they advised you to do something, nine times out of ten, it would be a good idea to follow that advice. There would be no yanking IV lines out of arms, no hobbling out of bed before it was necessary, no refusing food. You took everything readily, trying to adjust to this new reality of sleep, pain, hospital food and frequent visitors.

No, it wasn’t the schedule that was a problem. It was those times when you still felt the coldness at your side, when you knew the person that you want most to be there...wasn’t.

 

It was torture being away from you.

And torture wasn’t a word Steve used lightly, considering how much he knew of the context of that particular noun. No. Not being beside you genuinely felt like undeniable pain. It was an ache and a fiery agony all at the same time, inhabiting him when he did the most mundane of tasks.

When he showered, he wondered if you had been given enough to eat, if you had slept well. When he made breakfast, he was nagged by the worry that traffic would be so bad he wouldn’t be able to make it in time to see you when you woke up. When he conversed with the others, you were in the back of his mind. Always. You were always in the back of his mind, like a song, or a reminder.

How could you not be?

But he had a job to do. He had responsibilities, ones he couldn’t ignore, ones that pressed up against him when all he wanted to do was be near you, even if it was only to see you through the window glass to your room, see you resting. Those were one of his favourite moments, seeing you sleeping peacefully, your hair sprawled around you like you were some kind of medieval princess. He knew you would love the comparison. 

So when he got called away for a mission, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would actually survive. For fear of being miles away from you. What would happen if you took a turn for the worse? Who would be there for you?

Of course, he knew the answer; you had plenty of people at your beck and call, eager to see you, people he trusted enough to be there in an emergency. But he had a strange feeling that no one would be able to take care of you like you deserved.

Soon enough, the city of Vancouver was vanishing beneath the ship, away from the safe house he had been staying at for a week since they first arrived, away from you. As he turned away from the blinding golden sunlight filtering through the window, he wondered how he had ever summoned the guts to tell you he was leaving.

_You were sitting up now, which was an improvement, but there was no relief when he still saw the numerous lines running medication into you, and the pallid colour of your skin._

_“I…” he swallowed. “I’ve gotta go on a mission, for a while. Maybe a few days. Maybe more than that.”_

_There was no missing the disappointment on your face, but you tried to cover it nonetheless. “What for?”_

_He quirked a smile. “My job. It’s not far, it’s in Alberta. The rest is pretty confidential, but Sam and Nat are coming too.”_

_A shy smile appeared on your face. “Come straight back, yeah? I’m going to miss your bad jokes.”_

_He blushed to the tips of his ears. “You bet, doll. I’ll be back before you know it.”_

 

Except, it never worked like that, did it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Writing this chapter was such a relief, i've been so bogged down lately, so I finally put on some music (Lorde's Melodrama album, in case you're interested) and had a writing session.   
> There's more Steve x reader coming up soon, but first, a tiny bit more angst. It was never going to be a smooth road, but hopefully the end result will be better for it, right?   
> I kind of like the poetic chapter titles more, so i might do more of those.   
> stay tuned, chapter twenty (i think) is on the way. I can't believe how far we've come, and I'm ever grateful for kudos and comments and everything.


	20. The Missing Agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve, Sam and Natasha hunt for the escaped agent of HYDRA, and you try to adjust to normal life, with a little help.

Three had passed, each one feeling longer than the one before.

Time went slowly when you were in hospital, your visitors growing more and more infrequent as everyone went back to their lives, their responsibilities. After all, there had been the aftermath of the almost-attack on Vancouver to deal with.

It wasn’t like you expected visitors every day - sometimes you welcomed the peace and quiet, when the nurses would leave you alone to rest and listen to music - but every day, you woke up feeling daunted at the prospect of facing the next twenty-four hours pretty much alone.

The doctor explained that they were aiming to get you up and about in a few days, if your shoulder kept healing at the rate it was. You had welcomed the prospect of leaving at first, but now it terrified you - the idea of living alone, eating alone, going to work every morning and coming home alone - the same monotonous existence as it had been for a while, of course. When you had returned from Italy, you had somewhat been able to adjust to normal life again, but now you weren’t so sure.

 

He wasn’t ready to give up.

They had been given the identity of the only HYDRA agent who had escaped the scene the night of Nancy’s attack on the Avengers. It was important that she was found, captured and brought in for questioning.

They knew only a few details - she had last been seen getting on a freight train and heading for the north, and her name, Relia Stoica. Her suspected destination was a known HYDRA base in the Panorama Ridge.

They were trekking through the mountain ranges - him, Sam, Natasha, and Clint, and it was starting to seem like they had reached a dead end. It was freezing, they were exhausted, and the glacial wind was relentless.

No one was complaining - this was their job, to hunt down the threats to security, to avenge those who had been hurt.

Every time he thought about that night, about what had happened, he felt sick to his stomach. His blood boiled, his heart beat in his ears.

It was like a broken video tape, playing over and over his mind.

The running.

The gunshot.

You, falling to the ground.

Blood everywhere - on his hands, on your clothes, his frantic voice as he tried to save you. You hadn’t left him, you’d survived, but ever since that night something had been missing from him. The feeling of security. It had been a long time since he had been without it, he had been too comfortable - no, that wasn’t the word. He had been afraid, he was always afraid, but now he had something more to lose. He had something worth fighting for, in you - your smile, your laughter...and god, he would fight.

He would fight until he was black and blue if it meant saving you, if it meant ridding the world of the people who hurt you.

 

That night, they camped in a south-facing cave, covered from the snow and ice, but not the cold. Natasha struggled to get a fire going, whilst Clint cleaned his arrows, and Sam watched Steve scan the view from the ledge.

He stood, staring into the blank space, watching soft flakes of snow fall that would soon turn hard and icy.

The view reminded him of another place, another time...a train, a lost friend. It was his mind playing tricks on him, for certain, but sometimes he thought he could hear him saying his name.

Yelling it, as he was lost to the ravine deep below.

“You okay, man?”

He barely turned at Sam’s voice, and nodded slightly. He was distracted by the way the dying light hit the peaks of the mountains in the distance, lost in his thoughts.

“Got any other leads?” Sam asked, trying to make conversation. Steve didn’t answer.

“We’re bleeding ourselves dry, Steve. We have no idea if there even is a base here.” He said finally, the thing that was playing most on his mind.

Natasha stopped working on the fire, looking dubiously between Sam and Steve.

“We’re at a dead end, man.” Sam said.

Then, Steve turned. His jaw muscles jumping, from the cold or from pent up frustration, there was no indication. His eyes were hard, set.

“I’m not gonna budge on this, Sam.” Steve’s voice was resolute. “Stop trying to convince me otherwise.”

“You’re tired. We’re tired. The last sighting of this woman was four days ago. She could be anywhere by now.”

“So you’re just gonna tell me we should give up trying?” Steve snapped.

“I think we should reconsider what we’re doing.” Sam replied, coolly.

Steve took a dangerous step towards him. Clint’s hand stilled on his quiver.

“We still don’t know who shot Y/N. We don’t know if they’re this agent we’re following, but when I find out, I’m not gonna stop until I know they’re behind bars.”

“That’s what this is about?” Sam said, incredulously.

“Sam.” Natasha said, warningly.

“No.” Sam was shaking his head. “No, we deserve to know if all this is just because you’re upset about-”

“Quiet.” Steve said, suddenly.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Don’t-”

“Quiet.” Steve repeated, more insistently. He paused. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

He tilted his head slightly. Somewhere, there was a scream. A female scream.

“I don’t…” Natasha trailed off. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Superhuman hearing.” Clint muttered. “Not everyone has it.”

Steve listened into the wind, training all his senses towards the sound. It was louder now, more frantic. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Steve turned towards the others. Realisation dawned on Natasha’s face.

“You think it’s Stoica?”

“It could be. Or it could be someone got hurt.”

She got up from the rock she was perched on. “Let’s go.”

Sam snorted, but began to check his suit in preparation.

“I’ll stay.” Clint said, prompting them to turn around and stare at him. He stared back.

“What, you don’t think an old man can look after himself?”

“Steve manages.” Nat shrugged.

Clint chuckled. “Just go. Someone needs to hold the fort, right?”

Steve looked unsure, but nodded after a pause. “Okay. See you in a bit.”

“Gotcha.”

 

The snow was torrential by now, the only was to describe the thick sheets that darkened the sky and their hopes of any proper visibility. But the more they struggled through the snow, the more pronounced the noises became. They would pause occasionally, only to continue, with more blood-curdling volume. Natasha and Sam could hear them now, but kept quiet.

It had been hours since they had left the cave, and their ears were ringing. They waded through the snow, silent, with increasingly deadened hopes.

Only one of them burned brighter than before.

He didn’t feel the cold, he didn’t feel dejected - Steve wasn’t going to stop until they found the source of the noise. And then -

“Get back!” Natasha hissed. Steve saw what was in front of them.

Clint, in a headlock, a rusty knife held against his neck. His face showed signs of struggle, numerous bruises littering his skin, and ugly gashes, bleeding freely as though they were fresh. He grimaced at them. “H-”

The knife was held closer to him in one sharp maneuver, and that was when Steve’s eyes drifted up to his captor. It wasn’t the female HYDRA agent, as they had all thought. It was a man, muscular and brutish, dressed in an unmistakable uniform. Black, a red emblem splashed on the band circling the arm.

The man was not without bruises, however, a fact they were all thankful for.

He grinned at them, baring blood-soaked teeth. “I have something of yours.” 

 

The hospital had released you, mountains of medication and instructions following in your wake, along with help in the form of Bruce Banner.

Tony, Pepper and Rhodey were preoccupied with something none of them would tell you about, but Pepper and Rhodey promised she would come around to see you as soon as she could. Tony made no such sentiments, but he would also be coming to see you, Pepper informed.

You weren’t confined to your bed, a fact that Bruce kept reminding you of, but you found yourself retreating to it more often than not. It seemed that you were exhausted, every second of the day, from when you woke up to when you went to sleep. At least in the hospital, it had more or less been expected for you to sleep most of the time, but now you had Bruce coming round every day, and it felt rude to abandon him and take to your bed when he was there to help you.,

It wasn’t like he wasn’t good company. He watched movies with you, he reached things from high up cupboards you couldn’t get to because of your wound, and he was even a pretty good cook.

He just wasn’t the company you were growing more and more desperate for every day.

It was almost embarrassing, the way you asked after Steve every day, multiple times. The way you replayed every interaction you’d ever had with him in your head, trying to make sense of how you felt about him. Because you did feel. You felt a lot about him, you just didn't know what.

It was around four o’clock, on the third day of you living semi-independently.

A movie played quietly in the background as you watched the snow fall softly outside your window. Thoughts played uselessly in your mind, returning to their default. You swallowed, trying not to spiral, trying not to think of all the ways he could be in danger - they could be in danger. Your fingers fiddled with a loose thread on your jumper, your other hand circling the rim of your mug.

“Y/N?”

You turned, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

You hadn’t been paying attention to the movie, or him, at all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked hesitantly. The words you had been dreading.

You smiled. “About what?”

Bruce stared at you, and you knew how he knew. He understood, perhaps on a different level to anyone else, and he recognised the signs when he saw them. There was such a lot on your mind in that moment.

“I’m..” you began uncomfortably, trying to choose the right words. “I’m not sure if I can live like how I was living. Before.” “

You mean before Italy?” He referred to Italy as if it was an event, which you supposed it was. It had changed you for the better, and now it just seemed like you were slipping back into your old ways again. Something you had always been afraid of.

“Yeah.” Your voice was quiet. “I thought I could be happy, but now I feel like it’s an illusion.”

“Why?”

“Because everything will go back to how it was before, won’t it?” You said. “You’ll all go back to avenging, saving the world and everything, and you won’t have time for me. I’ll go back to the coffee shop, to my old life, and it’ll just…”

What you weren’t expecting after your outburst was to hear Bruce chuckle.

“With all due respect, Y/N,” he said, “I don’t think there’s any possible way it could go back to normal after this.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Think of it like this - your life is a constant, evolving thing. It can’t be imagined again, it can’t be copied. It’s yours, and you can do whatever you want with it, but it will always do one thing. It’s gonna change, Y/N, and there’s no avoiding that.”

You saw the truth in his words, and how he chose to explain it. “But don’t you need a catalyst for change, or something?"

He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe the change has already begun.”

You frowned, a question already on your lips.

Bruce sighed. “Look, there’s been a major event that’s already happened, right? You got shot. You don’t just ‘go back’ to life as it was before. And you definitely don’t when you meet a whole bunch of new people. We’re not just gonna walk right out and leave you to it. In case you didn’t know, we’re your friends, Y/N.”

You smiled, warmth spreading inside you at his words. To hear someone say that, after so long...it felt like the first time, like an undeniable truth that just _was._ “Thanks, Bruce.”

“But you’re forgetting something. Someone.” He said.

You looked down, feeling embarrassed. You had no idea it was that obvious.

“Your feelings for Steve, those things don’t just go away. You have to do something about them.”

You sat in shocked silence.

Your brain stalled like a broken computer.

“My fe..feelings for…Steve.” You repeated, dumbly. Of all the things he would say, that was the last thing you expected. And suddenly, you realised he was right. It was true.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. You could almost hear Bruce smirking, turning back to the tv. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

 

The man was almost suffocating Clint, as he gulped for air, his nose red from the cold.

“You are the Avengers, no?” The man smirked. “How n-"

He didn’t get to finish before Natasha pulled out her gun, followed closely by Steve and Sam. She stepped towards the man. “Let him go.”

“You think I am stupid?” He snarled. “You’ll shoot me.”

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe I will. What were you gonna do about it?”

“This.”

Five other men emerged from the shadows, all armed, all running straight for them. Steve struck out, punching one of them to the ground, aiming his gun for the man’s chest. Before he could pull the trigger, a sharp kick was aimed at his legs, sending him buckling to the ground. The HYDRA men fought roughly, forcefully, not caring who they hurt or why they hurt them.

Natasha went straight for Clint, and he stumbled into her arms. They ran away from the others, to what she prayed would be safety. She glanced down at a bleeding gash on his leg.

“They’ve got the girl.” He stuttered out. “The agent we were looking for. She’s here.”

“What-” she began, but couldn’t finish. The butt of a gun was aimed at her head, but she ducked, and swung for her attacker’s jaw. Her fist met metal, and she cried out as pain spasmed through her glove-covered hand.

She looked up at the woman facing her, half of her visage guarded by a metal balaclava. She couldn’t be more than twenty, built with a slight figure, but tall, with reflexes that weren’t quite developed - after all, most HYDRA agents would have dodged that blow.

Without warning, the woman aimed a kick at her, which Natasha expertly countered, gripping her foot and twisting hard, so that she fell to the ground. Natasha held her down with her foot, gun aimed at her face.

“Who are you?”

The girl said nothing, struggling to get up. Nat shoved her foot into her ribcage, causing her to yelp in pain.

“I’m not gonna ask again.”

“R-Relia Stoica.” Her voice quivered.

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Are you with HYDRA?”

When she didn’t answer, Nat pushed the butt of the gun into her neck.

“Jesus, Nat.” Clint said.

“No, I don’t think she’s working for Jesus.” She smirked.

The girl whimpered. “HYDRA.” Her accent was as thick as the man’s.

“Help me restrain her.”

 

Two men lay on the ground, motionless, whilst one pinned Sam down, finger squeezing the trigger on his gun.

“Some help would be good right now!” He yelled to Steve, voice panicked.

Steve took out the man from behind with a blow to the back of his head, helping Sam up. It didn’t take long to deal with the remaining HYDRA men. Soon, they lay in the snow, seeping blood onto fresh white powder. Sam and Steve left them there without so much as a single backward glance.

When they reached the others, they were surprised to find another addition to their party. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a little angsty, but I promise there will be Steve x reader in future chapters.  
> i wasn't always going to have Bruce help the reader realise the depth of her feelings for Steve, but when I came to writing it, it just kinda made sense. I really enjoyed writing this, and I'm sorry that it took so long. I've been quite busy lately.   
> I'm bringing this story to a close now - I know it seems weird since there's another OC and all but that will be wrapped up pretty quickly. It's mainly so that I can develop Steve's character a bit and help him leave behind anger and everything...I won't spoil too much but yeah, chapter twenty one is going to be here soon :)


	21. Gardenias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve grapples with inner conflict and reaches a conclusion with help from Natasha.

 

 

Steve stared at the girl.

He stared, and then stared some more. Finally,

“who the hell is this?”

“Relia Stoica.” Natasha frowned. “Thought that much would be obvious.”

And it was. From the red HYDRA emblem on her chest, the uniform, the metal balaclava covering her mouth. He remembered Bucky wearing something similar when they’d run into each other. The memory made a twinge of sadness rush over him. But there was one thing that appeared to be missing. The ruthless, harsh gaze beneath the brown hair.

She didn’t have it. Instead, the girl looked terrified.

Her eyes were wide and darting all over the place, and her hands fidgeted in the restraints.

“We need to get outta here.” Sam said, his voice with a worried edge to it.

“Agreed.” Said Natasha, who was propping up Clint.

“Someone take the girl.”

It turned out that no one needed to.

The girl, Relia, seemed to know better than to try and escape, and walked dejectedly behind Sam and Steve. Whilst they made their way back to the cave, Sam spoke to Steve.

“Look, man...I’m sorry about before.” The words hung quietly in the silent air between them. The snow had stopped, and the first signs of dawn were beginning to show in the sky. It wouldn’t be long until the darkness of night no longer covered them.

Eventually, Steve sighed. “It’s okay, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s not. I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with her being here and everything...hell, I’ve already apologised to her once. All I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship, or whatever. I’m not the easiest person to be around at the best of times.”

“Sam…”

“No. You know it, I know it. I got a lotta scars and few means of mending them, right now. If she’ll let me, I’d be happy to help her out, too. Therapy, and all that.”

Sam looked at his friend. A genuine smile flitted across Steve’s face.

“I think she’d like that.” Sam smiled back, and they continued walking in a warm silence.

 

To some extent, you knew you had feelings for Steve, even before Bruce had so gallantly pointed it out. You’d known there was something there, definitely more than friendship, but lingering between the lines of certainty. You had thought it was a crush, and couldn’t distinguish if you’d created it all in your head. No, you never knew you had feelings feelings.

And it was obvious. All you wanted was Steve to be here. Running his hands through your hair, lighting up your face with a smile...his strong arms wrapped around you-

You sighed. That was what it came down to, wasn’t it? You had feelings for Steve Rogers.

You wished you could roll over and forget all about it, and go to sleep. But you couldn’t roll over because you still had a smarting, extremely painful (even with the painkillers) gunshot wound, and there would be no sleeping. No, there would be no sleeping for a long time into the night.

 

They reached the cave, and Sam immediately started trying to get a signal going on the radio, to send a message back to Tony. It was futile, considering the environment they were in, but it could reach them in a couple of hours. It was Stark technology, after all.

Clint nursed the gash on his leg, whilst Natasha faced the girl, who sat with her back against the wall of the save, legs bunched up, and her arms wrapped around herself. If it wasn’t for the HYDRA emblem on her chest, Steve knew she would just be a very scared, young girl.

The two seldom mixed, so what was she doing here?

“Were you working with Nancy Trigeur?” Nat questioned.

The girl looked at her blankly.

“Nancy Trigeur.” She repeated, met again by a confused stare.

Frustratedly, she pulled up a hologram picture of the late agent of HYDRA, and the crease in the girl’s brow cleared, as if she understood.

The girl repeated Trigeur’s name, in a completely different accent.

“She doesn’t speak English.” Sam muttered. “This is your area of expertise, right?”

Natasha gave him a scathing look and got rid of the holo. She spoke a string of words in an foreign language to the girl, who nodded.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, suddenly feeling like he was in the dark.

“She knows who Nancy is.” Natasha said, and fired the girl another question, which she answered. “And she was there that night.”

Steve’s heart started to pound against his chest. “What else?”

“She was assigned the mission by someone else. Not Nancy. I don’t think she knew anything other than her name and what she looked like.” Nat answered, immediately shooting the girl another question. It was short and precise, leaving no room for argument.

Still, the girl appeared uncomfortable, and stayed quiet. Natasha leaned in threateningly, speaking in low, hushed tones.

She repeated the question. When the girl still didn’t answer, Nat seized her arm in an iron grip.

“Nat-”

Ignoring him, she barked out the question, shaking the girl violently.

“Lay off, Nat, she’s just a girl.”

Clint said, warning in his voice.

“Oh yeah? Do you want to do this? Think you could do my job better than me?” She snapped, whipping her head around to glare at him.

“Come off it.” Clint retorted, not at all threatened.

“I don’t remember you being able to speak Romanian.” She barked.

They began to argue, and Steve was feeling increasingly irritated.

They were clearly getting nowhere trying to intimidate the girl. The answer wouldn’t be forced out of her. Hesitantly, he crouched in front of her.

“Look, I don’t know if you can understand this, but we’re not going to hurt you.” Steve spoke slowly, trying to articulate each word.

Some of the tension eased from the girl’s face at Steve’s words. Encouraged, he spoke to her again. “We just need to know where your orders came from.”

Her gaze pierced the ground. “Who?”

Steve nodded.

“Strucker.” She said, quietly, her accent heavy. “Baron Von Strucker.”

“Oh, she speaks!” Natasha exclaimed sarcastically, approaching them.

“What did you say?” Steve’s voice was quiet, trembling. He knew that name. “Strucker?”

The girl nodded. “Kill the Avengers. My...orders.”

“What else?”

The girl frowned. “Kill all others. I...shoot...girl.”

The cave fell silent. All Steve could hear was the beating of his heart in his ears. Natasha looked at him, after a long pause.

“It’s not like we didn’t know that, Steve.” She said, softly. “Someone was responsible. It makes sense that it was her. Someone - Nancy, this Strucker guy - they told her to kill any bystanders.”

“She shot Y/N.” He gritted his teeth. “It doesn’t matter who told her to do it.”

Natasha shook her head. “You know better, Steve.”

He said nothing, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. Outside, the snow fell in white flakes against the pale magenta of the morning sky. The world was quiet, almost death-like - except for the sound of your screams, echoing through his head. Emptiness filled him.

It wasn’t enough that he had found your shooter. Now, matching a name and a face seemed meaningless, as the identity behind it was not justified. What he had imagined - a brutish thug, an act of pure cruelty - had vanished into the wind. He was left with a petrified young girl, shivering against the cave wall, and you, in a hospital bed.

Vaguely, he was aware of Natasha continuing to speak to the girl in her language, Romanian, with the odd hushed word here and there. He felt as if he was underwater, sinking slowly towards the bottom, light disappearing above him.

No one bothered to talk to him for the rest of the mission. Not when they hiked down to the valley, not when they boarded the ship, not when they spoke over the comms line with Tony and Rhodey. 

To an outsider, it would appear that he was in thought - perhaps deliberating over the latest episode of a television show, or some news from a family member. But his teammates knew better. They had seen him at his worst - angry, with a temper to challenge Tony’s - sad, distant, avoiding all contact he could.

This was different. This wasn’t just deep thought, this was turmoil, of the worst kind, so they left him alone. Whatever conflict he had to solve, he would do it alone, and there would be no persuading him to talk it over. Sometimes, he could be quite stubborn like that.

 

It was late when they arrived back at the compound, and after debriefing, they headed inside to change and get some rest. The HYDRA agent was taken to a secure facility, where she would be held until they figured out what to do with her.

Only Natasha and Steve stayed up, the former making some cereal in the kitchen, whilst the latter remained in the living room, dwelling silently in front of the TV. Silently, she leaned against the door frame, surveying him through empathetic eyes. He could feel her watching him.

“What?” He spoke the question to the room, instead of to her face, his voice low.

“Nothing.” She replied. Slowly, he turned his head to face her, eyes red and brimming with quiet tears.

“Nat, I don’t know what to do.” The room filled with silence, dark and heavy.

She ate a spoonful of cereal from her bowl, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.

“This…this whole thing with the girl, and Y/N..” his voice broke slightly as he said your name, “I don’t know how to…”

“You could start with finishing your sentences.”

Steve stared at her. She smiled, setting down her bowl on the counter. It wasn’t the time for jokes, but she would joke anyway. Natasha sat down beside him, guiding his hand into hers, tapping lightly on his palm.

“You met me at a very strange time in my life, Steve.” She murmured. “And a strange time in yours. You lived in the past, you were quieter...more reserved and insecure. But now…” A smile crossed her features. “Now, you’re a different person. And you have Y/N to thank.”

“I know.” His voice was hushed. “That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“It’s her.” He said. “That Stoica girl. The HYDRA agent. She shot Y/N, and ever since I found out, I wanted to be mad...I wanted to feel like I’ve avenged her, but now I just don’t know, and it’s tearing me apart.”

Nat was silent for a few minutes, processing the information.

“You wanted to justify what could’ve been Y/N’s death, but now you’re mad at yourself because her shooter isn’t who you thought it was, and you know the story behind it all, and you can’t be upset.”

He nodded, frustration written all over his face.

“Sometimes…” Natasha began, “sometimes we have to let things go. We have to trust ourselves to love without anger, without the overwhelming righteousness that comes with doing what we do.”

“It’s never as simple as that.” Steve muttered.

  
“You’re right, it’s not.” She agreed. “You wanted whoever hurt her to be behind bars, to bring justice. But when justice isn’t the right answer, you have to just... let it be.”

Steve gazed at his feet for a while, and then looked at her.

“You’re smarter than you look, y’know.”

She punched him playfully. “And you’re not just a pretty face.” 

They sat together, watching the faces on the news, watching the world through a screen, their world. It was an unusual thing, to see it all condensed into such a small space.

“Do you love her?” The questioned rang out into the vast space, and consumed it with warmth.

Steve nodded. He’d never been more sure about anything, ever.

“You’re so screwed.”

And then, they both looked at each other, and burst out laughing, the sound shaking their previous warm silence. 

It took a long time to try to placate Tony after their howling woke him at 2am.

 

Steve arrived at your apartment the next day, hair freshly groomed, arms full of gardenias, head filled with nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed, I had so much fun writing this. Stay tuned for chapter 22.


	22. You, and the snow, are beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you're surprised by an unexpected visitor, and an even more unexpected question.

Sometimes, you wondered about life.

Strange, how it twisted and turned, burdened you with glorious purpose and abandoned you in the worst of storms. How every person you passed on the sidewalk had their own story to tell, their own history - how real they were, not just players on the stage of life, but complex and multi-faceted.

Sometimes, you wondered about Steve.

How you thought that having feelings for someone would be one thing - how it turned out that it was just like life. You never knew how it would turn out, or how complicated it could be. Or how when you went about your daily routines - which didn’t consist of much now that you were technically an invalid - you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You trudged through the snow, eyes narrowed against the onslaught of bright light around you, reflecting off the diamond hue of last night’s storm. The air was biting, and you had neglected to wear enough, it seemed- something Bruce would berate you for, if he were here, but it was your first day of being on your own after the incident, and you were embracing your newfound independence with open, reckless arms, it seemed.

It was early, around half past ten - most of the dedicated morning joggers and cyclists had been and gone, and the couples and their children wouldn’t be out until after lunch time. It was just you, and a few other lonely people, and when you closed your eyes, tilting your face skywards, you could pretend you were the only person in the world.

Taking in a deep breath of the crisp air, you carried on your stroll through the snow prevented you from moving that quickly. Quietly, you reflected on how it might feel if you were walking along with Steve’s hand in yours.

It was just as you were chiding yourself for thinking like that, when it was only wishful thinking, when thought you heard someone call out your name.

At first, you didn’t turn around, wondering if they happened to be calling someone with the same name as you, or if you were finally hearing things. But then, they called louder, more insistent-

There was something oddly familiar about the voice-

“Y/N!”

You turned, and gasped.

Steve was sprinting towards you, stumbling through the snow - in his arms, a bunch of flowers, his face flushed and nose tipped red -

You wondered if it was a dream, if he was just a figment of your imagination.

Then he called out your name, and you knew he was real.

A laugh escaped your lips as you moved towards him, losing your footing as you tripped over the snow -

His arms were out in seconds to catch you, picking you up and spinning you around, as you laughed freely into the open air, burying your head into the side of his neck.

For a minute, you could pretend that he was yours.

Steve set you down, strong hands lingering on your waist. In that split second, you couldn’t form words. “You..came back.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

You smiled. “You didn’t, actually.”

“Well, I should’ve.” Steve said. “I went to your apartment, but you weren’t there, so I thought you’d gone to the store or something, so…”

“You went to the store? It’s like, five blocks away.” You were laughing again, unable to conceal your joy at seeing him again, finally.

He looked sheepish. “Yeah. Then I realised that woman I tapped on the shoulder wasn’t actually you, so I came here.”

“But she was tapped by Steve Rogers. I bet it made her day.”

You couldn’t tell if he was blushing, or if it was just the cold. He offered you the flowers he was holding. “These are for you.”

You took them from him, caught the sweet scent, recognising it under your nose - gardenias. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given you flowers. Now that you came to think of it, it was the first time.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, doll.”

Wordlessly, you began walking together through the snow, back towards your apartment. You couldn’t help but recall your earlier thought of him holding your hand, and suddenly, the respectful distance between you felt like miles and miles.

“How’ve you been doing?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Not too bad. I’ve had Bruce over almost every day, except today, and he’s been helping me out. He’s actually a surprisingly good cook.”

Steve chuckled. “Nothing surprising about that. Don’t you remember that pasta he made us in Italy?”

“Oh yeah!” You said. “That was really good. I should’ve asked him to make me that. We’ve just been watching movies and staying inside...it was nice to get out into the fresh air. It feels like I haven’t been out in forever.”

He glanced at you. “I can see that, doll. Aren’t you cold?”

You looked down at yourself, noticing your skin peeping out from under your t-shirt, where it could be visible underneath your thin coat.

“Still figuring out the sweater part…” you mumbled.

A low chuckle escaped him, and before you knew it, he was taking off his coat and bundling you in it, carefully, making sure he didn’t hurt you, his hands grazing your neck as he arranged the hood around your shoulders. All you could do was stand there, blushing like a beetroot. His smile when he saw you wrapped up in his coat was like something you had never seen.

“It’s a little big.”

Steve laughed, reassuring you that you looked just fine, and you carried on walking back to your apartment.

 

When you returned, you did the polite thing and invited him in - but the main reason was that you couldn’t bear to say goodbye, even if he was coming back. You set the flowers in water in the biggest glass you could find, failing to find a vase, and he made you both steaming cups of hot chocolate.

He talked only for a bit about his mission - you gathered that it wasn’t something he wanted to go into, because he quickly centred the conversation on other things: you, how your recovery was going - you told him about the new music you’d been listening to, even played him a bit from your phone, and the films you’d seen - all the classics, Shawshank Redemption, Inception and even It’s a Wonderful Life.

“I know it’s technically a Christmas movie,” you said, pausing to sip your hot chocolate, “but Bruce said it was either that or Gone with the Wind.”

“Wasn’t Gone with the Wind supposed to be a great movie?” Steve asked. “I never saw it.”

“It’s four hours long, and kinda racist. I had to see it for my film studies class in college.” You replied.

An amused look crossed his face. “I can see why that would put you off.”

You sighed, mock-dramatically. “Four hours of my life I’ll never get back. I had to write this huge essay on it, too - 1500 words.”

Steve shot you a sympathetic look.

“I mean, I know it was a portrayal of society in that time, but it’s incredibly racist,” you ranted, “and the main character is such a drip.”

“Makes me glad I never had to write essays.” He said. “Except for when I was in school - I guess it was more lines, then, when I misbehaved.”

You set down your mug. “You misbehaved?”

Steve smiled. “More than I want to admit, but not so much that I didn’t listen to my ma when she told me to button it.”

You felt a smile creep onto your face. “I don’t believe that.”

“What?”

“You acting up.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “What, like you never broke the rules when you were in school?”

“Oh, I broke the rules. I just mean you- you’re so good.”

Steve reddened, and you began to feel like you had made a mistake.

“Crap.” You swore. “I just totally put you into a box, didn’t I?”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I stereotyped you into what the world thinks - y’know, all the goodness and righteousness…”

Realisation crossed his face, and he shook his head. “I don’t mind when it’s you.”

You tilted your head in silent question.

“Because I know that you know me. You’ve seen the real me, and you didn’t want to run.”

At his words, a warm feeling spread inside of you. You’d never forgotten about your talk under the trees in Italy - him opening up to you, how relieved he’d seemed when you listened to him.

“It’s not like you’re secretly the hulk, or something.” You grinned. “Unless you have something to tell me.”

Steve laughed, a warm, throaty chuckle. “No surprises here, doll.”

The conversation continued in much the same way - you and Steve discussed more about movies he wanted to see, places you wanted to go, things you wanted to do. He told you about his lifelong dream of going to Rome.

“I loved Italy, when we were there.” He told you. “It was my first proper holiday in a long time, and I’d love to go back soon. When I’m not too busy. You should come with me.”

You smiled at the thought of the two of you, hand in hand, strolling down the streets of Rome. “I’d like that.”

Before you knew it, the sky was growing darker outside, the pale pink of the evening soon turning twilight blue. Heavy clouds hung in the sky, hinting at more snow to come, and you for one were glad that you were wrapped up warm inside your apartment.

You couldn’t say the same for Steve, though, as you handed him back his coat and thanked him again for the beautiful flowers. You looked doubtfully at the darkening night, tiny snowflakes already flurrying down from the sky.

“It’s pretty cold out, are you going to be okay?”

He couldn’t help a smile flit onto his face at your concern. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry, doll. Sam’s coming to give me a ride.”

You nodded, seeming somewhat relieved.

A sudden thought came into his mind, and he berated himself for forgetting to tell you earlier. It was true, the saying that time flew by when you were having fun. It always seemed to, when he was with you.

“I...I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he began, shifting from foot to foot, “Stark’s having a party on Friday. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

For one terrifying moment, you didn’t say anything, and he began to think he had gone too far - that it was too soon, that he was making a fool of himself-

“If your shoulder is still hurting, that’s fine, you don’t have to-”

“No, it’s fine.” You smiled softly, and the sight set his heart racing, for the millionth time that day. “I want to come.”

Steve couldn’t help the giant, beaming smile that spread across his face. “Okay. Say I’ll pick you up at seven, Friday night?”

You said yes, and he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and dashed across the road underneath the falling snow, to the running car where Sam was waiting.

 

Steve buckled himself in, his long legs taking up the small space in the passenger seat.

“She say yes?”

He turned at Sam’s amused voice from behind the wheel.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve frowned.

“‘Cause you’re still grinning like a clown. She must’ve said yes, to make you look like that.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Just drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed that chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it, especially when Steve asks the reader to the party, and I hope his nerves came through when you read it.   
> stay tuned for chapter 23, we're almost at the end :)


	23. A softness comes from the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Natasha find out more about Relia's past, and you attend a party.

For the whole week, you couldn’t stop thinking about the party. Friday night couldn’t come fast enough - and for the first time, you actually looked forward to a social event. A spring in your step, you were more productive - taking your time over all the everyday tasks, a smile playing on your face as you imagined what it would be like, your hand tucked under his arm as he led you out to the balcony, his hair dancing in a slight breeze, his eyes as he drew you into his arms, leaning down to brush his lips against yours-

There were times when you got ahead of yourself. When you forgot that for now, you were friends.

For now, he had responsibilities and so did you, and you had to stop getting distracted when you ironed your clothes or made pasta. You couldn’t afford to burn anything else.

 

Steve couldn’t get Sam off his back for the remainder of the week - slipping snide comments into random conversations with important people, sometimes making downright lewd jokes in the middle of breakfast, making him choke on his orange juice.

Half the time, Steve didn’t know what the jokes meant. He hoped it would stay that way.

The HYDRA agent, Relia Stoica, was still being held at a secure facility near the compound (they had returned for the rest of the week, but only after he made sure you were going to be okay) whilst they figured out what to do with her. With no word from Fury, who had once again disappeared into thin air, Tony was resolute on sending her to a high-security prison, reluctant to deal with the issue himself.

Despite everyone expecting Steve to agree with him, knowing his hatred of the organisation, he surprised them by showing lenience.

“She’s just a kid, Tony.” He said, somewhat sternly as they talked over the issue. “She didn’t know what she was doing.”

Tony shot him a look. “Thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

“All I’m saying is that we need to give it time. Ask her some questions, without interrogating her.”

“You’ll have a tough time convincing Nat to be civil.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him from where she relaxed on the sofa.

“Steve, this is HYDRA.” Tony’s expression was serious, staring at him with confused eyes. And Tony wasn't often confused.

Steve wasn’t a fool; he understood what he was saying. Everything they’d done, and everything they’d do.

“I’m not talking about HYDRA. I’m talking about the girl.”

Tony raised his hands in defeat. “Fine. Go ask your questions. You know where to find her.”

 

Relia Stoica’s cell was by no means heavily guarded, but Tony had spared no cost on security at the facility- heavy, coded doors, formidable locks and a multitude of cameras. As Natasha was the one with clearance to ‘interrogate’, she waltzed past the guards with Steve following shortly behind her, and they entered the room where the girl sat in a chair, waiting for them.

Divested of the uniform, balaclava and pistol, the HYDRA agent sat in the chair, shoulders slightly hunched and her hair pulled back away from her face. Nothing framed the daunted expression that waited there, and perhaps that was the most unsettling thing of all.

Natasha took her seat in front of the table, Steve to her right. “You know why we’re here?”

As Relia processed Natasha’s question, the latter watched her carefully, searching for any signs of contempt or withdrawal on her face, her body language. “To..ask. Questions.”

Natasha nodded. “Good. Tell me, Relia, how is your English?”

She shrugged. “I am not a native.”

“So, you were raised in Romania?”

“Yes.”

“In a family?”

“Me, and my mother.”

“What can you tell me about your mother, and your past?”

The girl frowned. “They have...file, on me. I don’t understand why you ask.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Relia seemed to relax a little at Natasha’s gentle, unintimidating tone, and nodded. “We lived in a small flat from when I was a child, me and my mother. I was born at...end of communist regime, republica socialistă România. We had little money and my mother worked all day, to live. Mother did not come back from work one day when I had recently turned fourteen, and I learned that she was attacked on the street.”

Steve frowned slightly at her words, feeling his sympathy for the girl growing.

“What happened then?”

“Neighbour says he will...take care, of me, he is very kind. I live with him for a week until there is knock, at his door, and then men in black uniforms take him away, HYDRA. They ask him if anyone else is in the house, and he says no.”

“But they found you, didn’t they?” Natasha said quietly. Relia nodded.

“They drive us away, to a place in the mountains. I remember thinking that I was going to die, but when we arrive, they take neighbour away. I never saw him again.”

Natasha carefully drew a file out of the inside pocket of her jacket. “It says here that you were initiated into a type of program. For young people.”

“I didn’t know it was a program, first.” The girl paused, hesitating. “Until I ask if I can leave, and they say no. They tell me, ‘you can never leave’ so I have no choice, and I do what they say.”

“What was this...program?” Steve was surprised to hear his own voice emanating in the silence. It was generally somewhat of an unspoken agreement between the two of them that questioning was Nat’s job, and she raised one elegant eyebrow at his interruption.

The girl didn’t seem to mind, however.

“For young people, a school,” Relia frowned, as if the memory was paining her. “They taught me to fight, to run and to jump from high places. In the evenings I learned English.”

“Did they ever experiment on you?” The question pervaded the silence, the question that had been hanging in Steve’s mind ever since they went in.

“Once. No medication. Only a chair, and needle.” Steve cursed softly under his breath. All he could think about was Bucky. His childhood friend, lying on a chair, experimented on in the crudest of ways. No one deserved that. Not even the girl sitting before him, despite trying to kill you.

“I tried...to escape.” Relia was shaking her head, and Steve realised she had carried on talking. “In the end I was...too afraid.”

“Do you remember there being anyone else being kept there?”

Relia shook her head, some of her hair falling over her face. “No. But they talk about another...facility, is that how you call it? They say there are others there. Agents, like me.”

Steve watched as Natasha sat up slightly, interest piqued. “Where?”

“Sokovia.”

 

Steve and Natasha spoke in hushed tones as they exited Relia’s cell, walking quickly down the corridor.

“Did they know?”

“She’s been debriefed, but not questioned properly. We’re the first to know.”

“And Sokovia?” Steve asked.

“A few weeks ago, an informant of mine heard tell about a HYDRA research base located in the mountain ranges of eastern Europe. This only confirms it, but it’s all about who we tell. If we tell the wrong people…” Natasha trailed off, and he didn’t miss her implication.

“...they’ll inform HYDRA.” He nodded.

“Exactly.” Natasha paused, seemingly on the verge of saying something.

Steve frowned. “What?”

“You never know...this might lead you closer to Bucky.” She whispered, checking to make sure they couldn’t be heard. Steve stared at the corridor ahead of them, head swimming. If what the girl had said was true, if there really was a secret HYDRA base in Sokovia, then there was a chance that Bucky could still be there.

“We’ll plan a recon as soon as possible.” Then, a smirk slid onto her features. “But first, you have a party to go to.”

 

Nervously, you ran your hands over your attire for the night, which had been carefully laid out on the bed.

You stared at the dress.

It was a far cry from the simple black frock you had worn to Tony’s birthday party - this was champagne pink silk with spaghetti straps, shimmering with a kind of elegant grace you weren’t sure you’d be able to pull off. In tentative hands, you held the material, feeling it slip like water through your fingers, and you put it on, taking care not to pull at the straps or rip the seams.

It was the first properly beautiful thing you owned, you realised. Other than a silver cross necklace you had inherited from your grandmother, and the bridesmaid’s dress you’d borrowed for a wedding when you were young, it was the first time you were going out in something that belonged to you.

Not something you’d bought, only to take it back the next day and pray that you hadn’t left any marks on it, or a gift from a well-meaning relative, or a hand-me-down- it was yours.

Sure, you might have blown half of your budget getting it, but at least you’d feel somewhat good about yourself. The truth was, the past couple of weeks had been difficult. You’d gone from hospital to your apartment, and from there, only in and out of bed with the occasional short walk that had left you exhausted. Worried that going out for longer than an hour would be too much for you, you’d taken the bus to the shopping centre, dosed up with painkillers, and had resigned yourself to the task of finding something to wear.

It had been just what you needed - a confirmation that you could, in fact, still survive social situations and being around strangers, that even after all this time, you hadn’t gone back to the way you were before.

Jolting at the sudden knock at the door, you slipped on a coat.

 

From the moment you opened the door to him standing there, a hesitant smile on his face, you knew you were screwed.

Everything he did - the way he furrowed his eyebrows when he made a turning, how he casually chatted to you about work, when he winked at you as your eyes caught his in the rear-view mirror - made your heart rate flare up, and a warm feeling spread inside you.

When you pulled up Tony’s, a part of you didn’t want to get out of the car, wanting to stay inside and talk forever - but before you could do anything, you saw Pepper coming towards you.

Steve helped you out, and immediately she drew you into a tight hug.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it.” Her eyes were earnest as she spoke. “We’ve all been missing you, even Tony.”

You laughed, not quite believing that statement, but letting her usher you inside like a mother hen, explaining the plans for the evening and where you could go if you were feeling tired or unwell. Steve gave you an amused glance as he followed the two of you, but by the time you were through the hallway he had vanished, probably taken hostage by one socialite or another.

“Tony didn’t want a sit down dinner,” she began, showing you where to hang your coat, “and neither did I, to be honest. Just once a year is enough for that kind of thing. So there’ll be a buffet in the living room, and somehow he’s roped Clint into being DJ - can’t think why-”

All of a sudden, she caught sight of another guest, and, making polite excuses, she left you to approach them with the same welcoming enthusiasm.

You had never been to Tony’s place in Canada before - it was in North Vancouver on the edge of the harbour, one of the wealthier spots in town - but you were happy to explore, deciding to walk up the glass steps and up onto the balcony section where there appeared to be less people. It was different from his Italy house - modern, but not clinically so.

The windows were floor to ceiling, boasting a wide view of the harbour at night, the glistening city lights reflecting off the water’s surface. Sometimes you wondered how you ever wound up being so lucky to see a sight like this.

“Hey, Y/N.” You turned around, Natasha coming to stand beside you.

She was effortlessly stunning in a green velvet dress and black heels - if you hadn’t known her you would have been a bit intimidated, but now you knew better.

“I’m considering getting the number of Tony’s interior designer. They could fix up my place no problem.”

You chuckled. “Probably cost you an arm and a leg.”

“Probably.” She smiled at you. “You look good, Y/N. Steve seen you like that yet?”

You shook your head. “I wore a coat, to give him peace of mind.”

She sipped her drink, not saying anything. “What?”

“Nothing,” your friend paused, staring out of the window, “just that his eyes are gonna pop right out of his head like one of those toys Tony has on his desk.”

You cleared your throat. “So, any news on what’s been happening with Relia?”

Deciding not to mention your obvious attempt to change the subject, she smirked. “That’s actually classified information, Y/N.”

You reddened. “Sorry. But I was shot by her, so…”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “She’s being held in our facility until we figure out what to do with her.”

You frowned.

“We’re not exactly going to release a criminal into society, are we? No matter her age.” Then she relented, seeing your expression. “It’s being looked into.”

Before you could say anything else, you saw her eyes rest on a spot behind you, and then you knew it was Steve. He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes lingering on you. Sam, who was with him, shot Nat a look.

She swirled the small amount of liquid she had left in the bottom of her glass, sighing resignedly. “I’m going to get another drink, you coming, Sam?” She paused. “Can I get you guys anything, like a martini, or a kick in the ass?”

Looking pointedly at Steve, she and Sam made their exeunt down the glass steps.

You were burning red, and it was clashing horribly with your dress.

“Don’t know what that was all about.” You mumbled, focusing your gaze on the small tug boat moving snailishly across the harbour.

Steve couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face.

 

As the night went on, the two of you continued to get harassed by various different guests - mostly Steve, but when he saw that more than a few people were coming up to you too, he promptly took your arm and gently lead you onto a balcony.

It was perhaps one of the most beautiful evenings you had ever seen, Italy aside, with the mist that was already beginning to shroud the skyline, and the lights that danced on the water looking like a fairytale.

Scanning the balcony, Steve managed to locate one plastic chair which he drew up for you to sit on, and he leaned against the wall, staring out at the harbour. The light caught his face in a striking way, and not for the first time, you reflected that he was actually pretty good-looking.

“Thanks for saving me.” You mumbled, feeling a twinge of pain in your shoulder.

You could feel his smile without even needing to look, and a shiver ran through you, making you wrap your arms around yourself.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” Steve cursed, in a very un-Steve way. “Here.”

And before you could do anything, before you could even open your mouth to protest, he was taking off his jacket, his arms stretching out and draping it over your shoulders.

 _This is not so bad_ , you thought to yourself, blushing as you felt warmth surround you - it smelt comfortingly like him, like _Steve_ -

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your head snapped up, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. “W..what?”

“I, uh…”

Trembling slightly, you stood up, barely aware of what you were doing - you walked over to him, all caution thrown to the wind, and he swallowed.

“I…” he began, and words left him. You were gazing up at him, a slight smile playing on your lips. Your cheeks were flushed, eyes wide, and suddenly he was speechless, words getting caught in his throat.

And then you were kissing him, feather-light and tentative. When you began to draw back, he rested his hand gently on your waist.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, reverently. “Do that again, doll.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes, shyly pressing your lips to his, his arm sliding around you to pull you closer to him. He kissed you back, his hand cupping your face.

Withdrawing, you said, “like that?”

“Y-yeah.” Steve said hoarsely, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

The world had stopped spinning, and it had left the two of you, standing on a balcony somewhere - there was nothing else except the faint sound of music and the soft wind ruffling your hair. And there was music inside his head, too - great trumpets and drums and cymbals crashing around, painting a huge smile on his face, for as he drew you near him, he decided that this was the best place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey. It's been a hot minute, hasn't it?   
> Truth be told, I've been so incredibly snowed under with work and life and everything that this chapter just wouldn't come to me, no matter how hard I tried, no matter what music i listened to to spark inspiration. I really really wanted to get it out, but as you know, these things can't be rushed.   
> That being said, I hope you like it. At the end of the day I enjoyed writing it and these characters and everything, it's not a hardship.   
> there will most likely be an epilogue chapter, and that will come as soon as it's ready. But thank you for bearing with me and reading this, if any of you have made it this far, please leave a comment and tell me what you think.  
> stay tuned, lots of love :)


	24. Epilogue

In the next few weeks that followed, Steve came to your apartment almost every other day, other than the days he was busy.

You would go on a walk together in the wintry air that was beginning to become a constant, or he would insist on making you dinner. Other times, you just sat together, watching a movie on your ancient dvd player, or he would put on some music on you’d just dance, until your shoulder got too sore and you had to sit down.

Steve told the others that he was just ‘checking up’ on you, making sure you hadn’t accidentally overdosed on painkillers or something - because the truth was, your shoulder wound still hurt you in so many ways, and it would be a while until that pain went away - and they nodded along, knowing all the while that there was something between you that, perhaps, overstepped the boundaries of friendship.

You didn’t want them to know, just yet. Neither of you were ready for dinner parties, kissing when you were around other people, dealing with what they might think. The formality of it all. The whispered words behind backs, that would say he was still in love with Peggy, or that you were mentally incapable of affection after what had happened in the past.

You’d talked, of course. About Peggy. You had asked him, curiously, if he still thought about her, and he merely smiled.

“Sometimes.” He said, softly. “But it’s just a memory.”

Somehow, that made sense.

It turned out that it was the normality that was good for you. For a short while, you existed in each other’s presence comfortably. You existed in his gentle smile when he told you about the new music he had discovered, in his laugh when you told him stories about college. And he existed in your intuitive mind, the way you’d know if something was wrong, how you could tell when it was appropriate to broach certain subjects, and when he just wasn’t ready for that yet. He existed in your empathy, and your feather-light touches on his hands or his shoulders when you were happy being around him.

It didn’t escape you, when you first woke up, the amber light of the morning casting shadows on your unadorned wall, reflecting off your bookshelves, that it was also reflected in his eyes as he opened them, filled with sleep and childlike wonder.

You stared back at him, vulnerable and playing with the strings of your pyjama bottoms, until you caved and looked at the sheets instead. What you weren’t expecting was for him to lean over, his strong arm reaching right across the length of your small double, and place his hand gently on your bent knee, as if to say, _it’s okay, I’m here, don’t hide yourself from me_.

And that was all it took, more often than not. A glance, and you caught the look in his eyes, or a soft brush of your hair behind your ear, and you were able to relax around him. Finally, finally, finally, and it felt like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

 

A few weeks later, you built up the courage to attend one of Sam’s anonymous therapy group sessions. You had thought it was going to be intense, or that you would say something stupid - despite Steve’s constant reassurance that Sam would look after you and make sure you were comfortable.

But it wasn’t what you were expecting, at all. It wasn’t just a few old and rugged veterans, no. There was an elderly black woman who had served in the Vietnam War as a medic, who spoke with passion and listened with unrelenting empathy; a young Irish man who had gone to Afghanistan, and rarely spoke - and there were people like you, who had been caught in crossfires.

In your first session, you didn’t speak, only listened to the incredible stories of people who had been through so much, yet remained strong. You listened in rapt silence, tears welling in your eyes at some points, and vowed to return a second time.

When you did speak, it wasn’t until your third visitation to the therapy sessions. You tried to say as little as possible, to underwhelm what you had been through - but they saw right through you, as if you were made of glass, and encouraged you to let it out. It was only then that you realised how horrifying it all was - the night in Puerto Rico, the things you had seen, getting pulled into situations you were never ready for, the violence you had experienced at the hands of someone you thought you knew, getting shot.

You didn’t share all of it, of course; but as time went on, it became easier to bare your soul and emotions to those around you. By listening to the hardships of others, saying the things you had kept to yourself for years out loud, supported by people who showed you friendship at every turn, you began to heal.

 

You hadn't visited the compound yet, but mostly you had long phone calls with Natasha, who had proved to be less intimidating and more like a cool, classy aunt. The more you got to know her, the more you saw how she could be chatty and friendly just like anyone else.

One day, midway what was proving to be a chilly November, you returned home from a tiring day at work, (despite Steve’s endless protestations, you had gone back). Kicking off your shoes and easing yourself onto the sofa - your shoulder still hurt a lot sometimes - you picked up your cell phone and browsed Pinterest as you awaited her call.

Soon enough, her number appeared on the screen.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, Nat.” You greeted. “How are you?”

She sighed. “I’m not going to lie to you, this new intern thing is starting to wipe me out.”

Natasha had recently decided to take on Relia Stoica as an apprentice, of sorts - when she had showed reluctance at going back to the wider world, the team had thought it best to keep her at the compound, where they could best look after her. She was encouraged to practice her language studies, which she seemed to enjoy, but they had appointed Natasha to be her ‘physical training’ mentor - which was proving to be a more difficult task than she had anticipated.

“Wipe you out? Never.” You chuckled.

“You’d be surprised, Y/N.” Natasha said. “The main problem is her style - she’s got this rough and ready combat from when she was with HYDRA, and it’s just not right for her size. She needs something different, so I told Tony I would start training her to skate, to help improve her stance and how she moves. Well, it went as well as you could expect.”

“What did he say?”

“Something about not running a camp for wannabe Olympic figure skaters.” You could almost hear her rolling her eyes from the other end of the line.

“I’d love to see him try it.” You said. “Yeah. In the leotard, and all.”

She laughed. “Pepper would love it, I’m sure. Speaking of the devil, guess what? They got a puppy.”

“No way!” You were shocked. Tony, caring for something smaller than him, let alone a dog?

“That was my reaction.” Nat said.

“They’ve named it Doug, after Pepper’s dad, you know, who passed away. Tony wanted to call it Mark 32, after one of his suits, or something idiotic like that.”

You snorted. “Pepper would never have that.”

“You could imagine.” She responded.

You reflected, not for the first time, how lucky you were, to be able to sit in your apartment on a Thursday night, and speak on the phone with someone you could call a friend, without worrying about what you were saying, or the future that lay ahead of you. You were lucky in when you opened the door, Steve was standing there with bags full of takeout, and a huge smile on your face. You were lucky when Rhodey and Bruce and the others came to the other end of the phone, all crowded round to say hi, and when you hung up, you settled down to have dinner with someone you could call more than a friend.

Someone you trusted.

If someone had walked past your apartment that night, they would never have known the radiant happiness that glowed from your cheeks as you smiled. They would never have known the grin that Steve gave you when he stole your food, or the warm feeling that emanated from that room when you curled up later to watch a movie together.

They would never have known the joy that was present in Steve’s eyes, nor the sweet, soft kiss you shared with him when the screen went dark and the swell of night covered the snow falling outside your window.

And you were happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once read somewhere that you write the ending that you need. I need happy endings, and it just felt right for it to be that way.   
> I'd like to say a special thank you to users LSKollt and sophiria for sticking with me since the beginning and commenting your thoughts, I've really appreciated it. And also to the rest of my lovely readers, thank you for bearing with this story.   
> I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.   
> I'll see you again soon for the Steve x reader bodyguard AU and perhaps something else special...  
> stay tuned :)


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